


Comic Relief

by nerdofnerds



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: (beej would never be that kind of creep and hes frankly insulted anyone would think he would be), Abusive Parents, Apologies, Autism/adhd solidarity, Beetlejuice Is His Own Warning, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Canon typical attitudes towards death, Canon-Typical Body Horror, Canon-Typical Gore, Cartoon Physics, Demon & Human Interactions, Demonic Possession, Demons, Depression, Family, Forgiveness, Found Family, Gen, Ghosts, Lydia has so many fucking parents now yall, Mentions of Pedophilia, Misunderstandings, Nobody has perfect mental health in this household, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Possession, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, Stimming, Trauma, beetlebabes dni, beetlejuice has adhd, cartoon logic, maybe future beetlands, tfw you accidentally adopt a centuries old demon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23012260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdofnerds/pseuds/nerdofnerds
Summary: Another Beetlejuice returns fic! Beetlejuice appears nearly a year after the events of the musical, remorseful and desperate to prove he can be good. However, his understanding of the Upperworld isn't nearly as accurate as he assumes. Will he manage to befriend the Deetz-Maitland family despite these hurdles, or will they banish him once and for all?
Relationships: Beetlejuice & Adam Maitland & Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice & Charles Deetz & Delia Deetz, Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz
Comments: 104
Kudos: 237





	1. Somebodies, On the Roof

**Author's Note:**

> This fic uses my personal headcanon for Beetlejuice's mood ring hair! I have a handy chart here: https://nerdofnerds.tumblr.com/post/611646824275689472/i-made-a-beetlejuice-hair-color-chart-for-the-fic 
> 
> Feel free to tell me your thoughts about the colors and their meanings!

It had been almost a year since the Deetz-Maitland household saw Beetlejuice off on his Soul Quest or whatever he’d called it. Quite frankly, most of them were glad to be rid of him. Adam and Barbara harbored a quiet, shared unease at the thought of him, Charles had a strong distaste for him, and Delia was admittedly upset at his inability to recall her name.

Lydia wasn’t sure how she felt. 

They’d had a lot of fun before shit hit the fan. He’d made her feel comfortable like nothing else had since her mom’s death-had helped her realise she didn’t need to be sad 24/7 to mourn. But then he’d switched gears out of nowhere and ground their fun to a screeching halt. That  _ really weird _ wedding, the things he’d threatened her family with, the things he actually  _ did _ ...it was messed up. 

And then he’d switched gears right back and protected her. Stood up to someone he was terrified of...for  _ her _ sake. 

It left her unable to clearly sort her emotions out, part of her longing to see her buddy again and the other part dreading his inevitable return. 

* * *

It was a Tuesday night. The clear sky was dyed in warm pastels as the stars began to peek past the fading curtain of light from the absent sun. Lydia was on the roof, trying to capture the first stars of the night with a special long exposure technique she’d read about, when she heard a noise behind her. She turned just in time to watch Beetlejuice step out of a chalk door on the side of the chimney, carefully closing it behind him. 

He paused with his hand against the brick, taking deep breaths, before he turned around and abruptly jumped a solid foot in the air. 

“Lydia!!  _ Jesus fuck, _ kiddo, you’re quieter than the grave.” He gripped his chest dramatically. “Givin’ me a post-mortem heart attack over here.”

“What the fuck???” She stepped away from her digital camera, leaving it to do an extra long exposure while she dealt with the Juice Situation. 

He didn't seem to hear her as he settled back down, looking her over. His green hair dripped more and more purple the longer he took her in. “You grew,” he murmured to himself. “And you’re in non-monochromatic clothes? Wow. Things must’ve changed a lot up here while I was gone.”

Lydia still wasn’t sure how she felt about him. 

She blinked and stepped back again, wary of the specter, and watched his hair dye darker. He was overall just as grimy and ratty looking as before, but the rings under his eyes were deeper and he seemed more subdued now. 

“Why are you here?” She asked, caution and unease filling her voice. He winced. 

“No, yeah, don’t deserve to be trusted right off the bat, that’s fair,” he mumbled, before straightening up, hair flashing bright green. “I’m-!!” He took a deep breath and forced himself to meet her eyes. “Actually, I’m here to apologize to you! And the others. But mostly you. Y’know, considering you’re the breather I fucked things up with the most.”

Lydia blinked again. He seemed earnest. She was torn, but decided to listen and settled against the slope of the roof, crossing her arms to watch him. “Go on, then,” she drawled, feigning a casualness she wasn’t feeling. “Say what you’re gonna say, and maybe I won’t scream for Barbara to come so she’ll feed you to a sandworm.”

He physically flinched at her words, hair bruising a dark indigo before he took another deep breath and straightened up again, hands tugging at and fidgeting with his cuffs. 

“I-I’m  _ sorry,  _ kid. I spent, uh, a  _ lot _ of time talkin’ to Miss A. while the rest of the Netherworld bureaucracy rearranged itself and had duels to the double-death over Dear Old Mom’s seat at the top. She said that death is “bad” and “extremely unpleasant” and “not good to suggest as a solution to mild family drama” and called me a  _ lot _ of things I don’t know how to translate without literally setting your ears on fire. So.”

He shuffled his feet as he regained his train of thought. “Uh, point is, I’m sorry for sayin’ you oughta kill your dad a bunch, and tryin’ta kill your dad and his girlfriend and the Maitlands myself. That wasn’t cool of me.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t been expecting a  _ proper  _ apology at all. Maybe a weird prank, or a gift, or a gift-prank. Or him deflecting the blame away from himself and trying to get her to summon him again. Instead, he seemed...almost genuine. She was hesitant to say for  _ sure,  _ considering how Beetlejuice acted, but it was enough to make her consider his words.

After a few moments, she nodded. “Okay. I accept your apology for that stuff. What else?”

Beetlejuice blinked, a weak smile flitting onto his face at her acceptance. “Well, I also wanted to-uh-apologize for thinkin’ your dead mom was...gonna be like mine. ‘S not like I’ve known anythin’ else, but Miss A. said that assuming other’s experiences are the same as yours can lead to a lot of trouble and it definitely….did. Here. I didn’t mean to uh, slander her or nothin’.”

Lydia tilted her head, considering the apologetic demon before her. An understanding was starting to form in her mind, dots connecting. Her unease slowly began to let up as his words sank in. “Wait. Is  _ that  _ why you flipped out when I decided to try to summon my mom? Because you thought she was a potentially homicidal piece of shit like yours?”

Beetlejuice nodded, grimacing. “That and, uh, I thought you were gonna ditch me once she was here. Most people--- y’know, I’m a demon!” He tugged at his hair, working himself up. “I get summoned, I do what they want, they banish me again! Sometimes I try to milk it, make the task last, um, but when you can rearrange a house with a snap and possess a dozen people at once, no one buys you needing some time to prepare for a _ simple town-burning.” _

Lydia decided not to ask about that escapade. She waited, patiently, for him to get to the goddamn point.

“So... figured you’d be like the rest and abandon me again. You’re the first breather to see me, yeah, and that’s  _ huge.  _ But you’re also the first one who treated me like a...friend? Didn’t wanna lose that, especially. So I wound up flipping my shit and severing our little friendship myself.”

He wrapped his arms around himself, looking down the slope of the roof at the birdbath again. He looked small and almost  _ pitiful _ . Lydia noticed with a start that she was taller than him now, as well-that definitely didn’t hurt the impression. Nor did the dusk casting long shadows over him, his vibrancy muted in the low light. His hair had been a deep navy through that whole speech, and as he took a deep breath and met her eyes again it turned lavender. 

“Also, that wedding?  **_AWFUL_ ** idea. Being human for a few seconds left me with stronger emotions and More Feelings ™️ or whatever, and I  _ hate it, thanks!”  _ He shuddered. 

“I...I figured you guys were gonna double cross me when you came back doing a whole ‘southern belle getting married off for her dowry’ thing, but the…” He looked away again, grubby fingers slowly unraveling the stitches of a patch on his suit’s elbow. “I wanted so desperately to matter to someone that it won me over anyway.” He went quiet for a moment, ragged fingernails digging into his elbow through the cloth, before he met her eyes again. “I promise, though. I never,  _ ever  _ would have used that to be a fuckin’ creep with you. I’ve got  _ standards,  _ and those include ‘not being a goddamn pedophile’ and ‘keeping the Green Card marriage attempts purely platonic unless the person I’m trying to dupe is a grown-ass adult and a demonfucker.’.”

She’d be lying if she said  _ that _ wasn’t a weight off her shoulders. Nothing stresses a girl out like thinking her cool weird demon brother might be into kids or  _ specifically  _ into  _ her. _ She felt tension leave her that she didn’t know she’d been carrying, and nodded along with his words.

He turned sharply, attention focused somewhere past the edge of the yard. “Not to mention the fucking degenerates in the audience who missed the entire point of that song and now want us to bone down! Goddamn  _ disgusting. _ I hate you  _ personally _ , you fuckin’ bastards! Do you know how hard you’ve made it to find fanfiction of me and the Maitlands, when every time I open the damn site I have to scroll past all your nasty ass, fucked up shit?”

“Who… are you talking to?”

“They know who they are.”

Lydia squinted, staring at him until he turned to face her again. “Anyway, it was fair for you to assume I was gonna be a shitbag considering the situation, I just...wanted to let you know I wouldn’t be. Ever. In my entire unlife.”

She nodded, considering his passion on this topic and the way he’d behaved towards her before. She’d never gotten bad vibes from him in that way, in all the time they’d spent together. “That’s...good to know, Beej. Thanks. And, yeah, I think we played it up a bit hard trying to trick you, but like, you  _ did  _ murder Delia’s guru.”

Beetlejuice blinked at her. “What? No I didn’t.” 

Lydia blinked back at him. “Yes, you did? We never found the body but he totally-“

“Oh, oh, no, I just sent him back to New Jersey! Dramatic exits get the point across better, is all. He’s totally fine.” He paused and winced. “Probably. New Jersey is kinda rough all over.” 

Lydia took a moment to process that. “...Huh. Okay. I’ll tell Delia that.”

She came to a decision, internally. Pushing off her leaning spot, she slowly approached Beetlejuice, watching how his hands immediately moved to start picking at the frayed edges of his lapels. His hair flushed lime green, then purple, then settled as a deep indigo again. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to think about you after everything,” she began, and he nodded, eyes skating back to the birdbath as he gradually backed away from her advancement. He looked skittish, afraid, and haunted, like if she said the word he’d jump off a cliff to prove he was genuine. 

“I ain’t expectin’ you to invite me back or treat me like a friend again or nothin’. I fucked up.” As she got closer, she noticed his hands were shaking. “But could you, uh,” his eyes flicked to the window into her room, “keep Babs from yeeting me to Saturn long enough for me to apologize to the others, too?” He curled in on himself. One hand clutched at the center of his abdomen, digging into his torso, right where she’d- “I’ll leave y’all alone forever once I’m done with that, won’t ever have to see me again, pinkie promi-“

She flung herself forward, wrapping the demon up in a tight hug. He froze, but when nothing hurt he slowly relaxed and raised his hands to place them on Lydia’s back. Light, trembling... like he was expecting her to push him off, even though she’s the one who hugged him. His eyes searched her face when she leaned back to speak.

“Okay. It’s obvious you feel bad for what you did, and you’ve apologized and cleared up…  _ basically _ everything I was mad at you for. I doubt anyone’s gonna like, trust you for a while yet, and you have a  _ lot _ of amends to make, but you don’t have to leave us forever, BJ. It’ll be okay.”

The demon’s breath caught in his throat. The hands on her back tightened against the fabric, and then he was hugging her back. He crushed her against him, holding on like his unlife depended on it. He hid his face in her shoulder, and she felt something wet and hot start to soak her shirt. 

“-Sorry,” he choked out, voice gravelier than usual. “‘M sorry, Lyds. I missed you.”

Lydia smiled, patting his back. He squeezed tighter. “I missed you too, Beej,” she wheezed. God, he was stronger than he looked. “Maybe if you’re good, dad’ll let you hang out with me? Like- like friends do?”

He nodded, smearing tears and grime and snot over her shirt. That was probably going in the trash tonight. “I’d like that. More than anything.”

* * *

She held onto her demonic friend for a while as he sobbed, watching more stars pop into visibility above them. Suddenly, a ‘ding!’ sounded from behind them and Beetlejuice jumped. He pulled back, wide eyes looking for the source of the noise, and she took the opportunity to release him. 

“That’s just my timer, Beej, don’t worry. Wanna see if the pic’s any good?”

He nodded, pulling a handkerchief out of his sleeve and blowing his nose comically as he drifted over. Lydia noted internally that his hair had lightened to a dirty yellow. That was a new one. She closed the shutter tenderly and picked the camera up, peering down at the small screen. 

The glow of the sunset was visible in about a quarter of the photo. An abundance of stars littered the night sky, those that were visible longest shining the brightest. She took a minute to search for the constellations she knew; Orion stood proudly between Gemini and Taurus, Cassiopeia laid next to Ursa Major and Minor, and Polaris shone brighter than any other in the middle of the sky. 

“Man, that fucks,” Beetlejuice remarked behind her, and she giggled despite herself. 

“...Colorful choice of words, Juicy Juice,” she deadpanned, and he snickered. 

“It does, though! That’s cool as hell, Lyds. Hey, hey, actually, where’s that-uhhhh... Onion? Onion belt?” 

She raised an eyebrow at him over her shoulder. His hair was gleaming yellow now, eyes focused on the screen. “Orion, you mean?” 

“Yeah! Yeah, that guy. There’s a star with my name up there! Ma would never tell me if I’m named after the star or he’s named after me, but there’s a B-boy in that constellation.”

She pointed at the screen, outlining Orion for him, and he whistled quietly. “I wonder which one is..?” 

She weighed the pros and cons of her next words, but he looked like a golden retriever entranced by a stack of tennis balls. A weird, scruffy, hobo-y golden retriever, but a golden retriever nonetheless. How could she _ not _ help? “We can go look it up on my computer if you want, dude.”

His head snapped up, yellow eyes sparkling and golden hair shining. “Really? You’d let me in the house for this?”

She shrugged. “Sure, I don’t see the harm in-“

“Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy _ , oh boy!  _ We don’t have fuckin- stars or starmaps or shit in the Netherworld! The last time I looked through a telescope was when that Galileo fella was on trial!! I’ve been curious for  _ ages,  _ Lyds. Thank you, holy shit!”

He bounced on his toes all the way over to her window, and continued to bounce while she gathered up her camera and tripod, up until she opened it and let him in. He tumbled onto her bed, giving the springs a workout as he wiggled around and watched her open her laptop. She found a suitable map and picked the computer up, holding the screen facing her chest. She steeled her face. Time to set some ground rules.

“You can’t stay tonight, though, okay? After this, you gotta head back. I don’t think anyone would be super chill with finding out you were here at all, let alone that you spent the night or something.”

He wilted momentarily, hair streaking blue, before sitting back up. “Okay. Got it, Scarecrow. I’ll be good and, like...respect boundaries. Like Miss A. said is important to do!”

She rolled her eyes but sat beside him, turning the laptop to face him. The map was of just Orion, with each star clearly labeled. He stared at it blankly. 

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up. “...this one starts with a B, but what’s with all that other shit after it?”

Lydia raised both eyebrows. “Can you...read?”

He shifted on her bed, hair quickly dulling to a pale, grayish-pink. “I can read, sure, of course I can fuckin’ read,” he said defensively. “I just can’t read  _ good.  _ The letters won’t sit still! Makes it real fuckin’ hard to read when every books doin’ a dance number on every single fuckin’ page.”

She took note of that and pity on him, turning the laptop so they both could see it. “Okay, so this star in the shoulder is Betelgeuse,” she read, pointing to it. “It’s weird, though. I thought your name was spelled like the bug and the drink.”

He shrugged, peering at the screen. “Never learned to spell real well either. Mostly I go off how shit sounds-Miss A. calls it ‘Fun-eh-ticks'?-but in this case, that looks like it’s for the better. People can spell  _ my _ name without trouble.  _ That  _ is a Starbucks cup nightmare. Who the fuck thought that unholy amalgamation of vowels was a good word?”

Lydia shrugged, turning the laptop and doing rapid googling. “The word was...apparently an anglisation of an Arabic phrase that was literally ‘armpit of Orion...’ sooooo... Take it up with the old scholars.”

Beetlejuice giggled at the origin and nodded, a familiar grin forming on his face. “I will!! They’re _ totes _ in the Netherworld somewhere. I bet Miss A. or one of her friends can point me to ‘em! It’s been a while since I tormented an old fucker. It’ll be fun!”

As he talked, she watched his hair gradually grow green again, color fading up from his brown roots to the wild tips. She smiled. “Glad to see you cheering up a bit, Beej.”

He grinned back at her, eyes crinkling. “You wanna help? We can take a trip, it’ll be great-”

She shook her head, amused. “Nah, I gotta get to bed. I’ve got school in the morning, dude. Which means it’s time for  _ you  _ to get back out of the house before someone finds you.”

He wavered for a moment before grinning again, though she noticed his hair losing it’s vibrancy. “Alright, kid! I’ll go kick those astronomer’s butts. Can I drop by tomorrow again? Would that be chill?”

A quiet nod and a wave towards the door are enough to sate his worries. He nodded eagerly before climbing back outside onto the roof. “See ya soon, Scarecrow!” he exclaimed through the window. 

She snorted and waved. “See you tomorrow, BJ.”

She watched as he fidgeted around, fistpumping into the air and bouncing from foot to foot. He seemed genuinely happy that things had gone well with her, and he bounced on his toes as he drew the door to the Netherworld, knocked, and went through. 

Lydia flopped back on her bed once he was gone. So... Beetlejuice. Time to process all of that, huh? He seemed...to have learned from everything, surprisingly enough. He apologised for the things that had stuck in her grill for months and he appeared to be genuinely remorseful about them. 

She rolled over, eyes landing on her camera. He was still Beetlejuice, of course, but he almost seemed a little less feral. What had Miss Argentina  _ said _ to him? She pondered for a moment, but shrugged. Probably just chewed him out real hard. She seemed like the kind of spirit who could tear you a new one without flinching.

She got up and prepped for bed, still thinking about the chubby demon. How was she gonna open a discussion with her family about this? “Oh, he’s  _ weally _ sorry for what he did, and he wants to apologise for the months of nightmares we had?” “He's gained the ability to process basic human empathy since we murdered him and he wants us to assuage his guilty conscience?” “I’m totally sure he’s legitimately sorry, despite being a conman known for faking basically everything to get what he wants?”

Lydia shook her head as she settled into bed. She’d sleep on it. With a flick, she turned out her lamp and snuggled up, drifting off to sleep quickly. 

...For once, she didn’t dream.


	2. Horse Apples and Hard Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia and the Ghost with the Most hang around, and said Most Ghost commits food crimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently horse apples aren't as universal as I thought! They look like [this](https://specialtyproduce.com/sppics/18177.png) and are also known as hedge apples, hedge balls, and osange oranges. They're not pleasant to eat in any way, and the only real use for them is as a spider repellent. (Conflicting reports on whether they actually work or not.) Figured they make a good parallel to our favorite green boy!
> 
> [Here's my color chart for Beetlejuice's hair, as well.](https://nerdofnerds.tumblr.com/post/611646824275689472/i-made-a-beetlejuice-hair-color-chart-for-the-fic)

When Lydia awoke the next morning, she half-expected Beetlejuice to be peering in the window or sitting on her bed. He never had the best grip on time in the Upperworld, after all. But she opened her eyes to an empty room, quiet save for her alarm clock screeching. 

She got ready for school and ate breakfast with her family. Chatted casually with her ghost parents as she wolfed down the food they’d made. Went to school. 

...Beetlejuice never appeared. 

She was distracted all day, staring out the windows of her classrooms wondering if he was gonna show up here instead. The day dragged on for eons as she continued pondering how she was going to tell Adam and Barbara about him. Knowing Beej, there was a high chance he was already causing chaos at home, so she focused mostly on the apologetic takes on him. 

When the last bell finally rang and she came outside, Delia was waiting to pick her up, just like usual. She chattered aimlessly about stars, crystals, and the jewelry attempts she was making with some pendant-sized rocks she had. Wire-wrapping could be used to some beautiful ends, apparently, and she seemed really excited about it. No mentions of BJ. Lydia smiled and nodded along, relieved he hadn’t caused trouble. 

Once home, she dashed up to her room to get started on her homework. There was still no sign of Beetlejuice, which was starting to seriously worry her, but she figured now was a good time to get mundane responsibilities out of the way. She got through her English, her math, her biology, and half her creative writing before she finally got fed up with waiting. Lydia set everything aside, popping open her window and climbing onto the roof. The sun shone warm on the house, and for a moment she was tempted to sit down and bask like a housecat, but… if Beetlejuice was here, chances were he’d be on the roof. 

She turned, investigating. He wasn’t sitting against the chimney, or anywhere on the balcony. A quiet, rasping noise raised her eyes, and there he was, curled on  _ top _ of the chimney, napping. Apparently he had had the same thought she did. 

Lydia walked over to the chimney, knocking on it, but got no response. After a cautious glance at the window, she hissed “Beej! Wake up!” Nothing. Sighing, she picked up a twig that had fallen from their tree and chucked it at him.  _ That _ got his attention. He startled awake with an incoherent noise, falling backwards off the chimney top. She watched as two, then four, then six grubby hands wrapped around the chimney stack and Beetlejuice scuttled down to meet her. 

“Good shot, kid! How’s it hangin’?” He grinned as he bounced down to the balcony , sleep apparently forgotten. The extra arms retracted into his sides. “How’d the learning go? I saw ya comin’ home, but I figured waiting to chat would be smart so Adam wouldn’t, like, pop in and literally murder me.”

His hair was a bright, almost flaming green. He looked less like the walking dead- or, well, less than he had yesterday. Lydia smiled back. 

“School was alright. Same boring stuff punctuated with the two classes I care about. Did you just get here a little bit ago, or have you been napping on the roof the  _ entire day?” _

Beetlejuice shrugged. “Showed up… I guess, probably about noon? Judging from where the sun was. The roof is usually good for mopin’, but it was so sunny I just got tired.”

Lydia pictured Beetlejuice, hair a deep purple, crouching on the chimney until the warmth of the sun lulled him to sleep. It was sad, but also kind of endearing.

“Anyway, I couldn’t find the old guys last night,” he was saying, oblivious to her distraction. “And Miss A. wouldn’t tell me where they were because  _ apparently  _ ‘wanting to annoy scholars is not an actual reason to do so’ and ‘it’s rude to harass the dead over something trivial like this’ and ‘I need to figure out how to read a map so I can stop relying on the receptionists.’”

He was surprisingly good at mimicking her accent. Lydia giggled at his recounting, swinging down to sit on the edge of the balcony. After a moment's pause, Beetlejuice sat down next to her, swinging his legs and bouncing his feet off the side of the roof. Together, they gazed out towards the cemetery, just enjoying each other’s company. It felt nice to just exist with someone she'd missed.

Beetlejuice could only hold (mostly) still for a few minutes, though, so before long he was moving around again. He turned to hang upside down, an extra leg extending from his body and hooking around the spikes that edged the balcony. His tie hung down past his face, and his coat tried desperately to hang down as well but couldn’t quite make it. He wiggled and swung, his bright shock of green hair fluffing out even further from his head than its usual pouf. 

“Beej, you look like a fucked up horse apple,” Lydia announced. 

He grinned at her. “What, like these?” 

He snapped. A pile of the misshapen fruit appeared in Lydia’s lap, several spilling off her legs and to the ground. She squealed before breaking down in giggles. Beetlejuice’s grin softened, just a bit, and Lydia caught it as she inspected a fused twin fruit. She decided not to say anything, however. Didn’t want to embarrass him so soon into his return and have him stomp off on her.

“Where do you get this stuff? Do you just like, pluck it into existence or something?” 

Beetlejuice waved a hand. A pen fell from his sleeve with the movement. “Nah, I pick shit up on my travels. Every time I pass through a fruit farm or a grove I grab whatever’s fucked up for my stash.”

Lydia tilted her head, lining the horse apples up against BJ’s extra leg. “Then where do you keep them?”

His grin turned almost feral. He swung his arms up, rifling through his pockets, before pulling a comically large fencing foil out of his coat’s interior. It was  _ far too long  _ to fit in that. He had to pull it out hand over hand like a magician doing a handkerchief trick. Lydia gaped. 

“Pocket dimension!!” He announced, and promptly burst into giggles at his own pun. “Clever, right? My pockets lead to my own personal-use dimension. I shove something in my pocket, it stays how it was when I put it in! I can always snap something in or out, too, but it’s more fun to use a practical effect. The audience  _ loves _ that shit!”

He was obviously very pleased with himself over this. Lydia grinned. She gripped a spike and leaned forward to get a better look at his coat. “So do things stay in stasis in there? Like, nothing happens? At all?”

Beetlejuice gestured for a horse apple, and she dropped a crescent-shaped one into his free hand. He bit down into the hard flesh, turning the fruit to show it wasn’t rotten inside as he chewed. 

“...You know those aren’t supposed to be eaten by people, right,” she asked sardonically. “They’re poisonous or something?” He shrugged and took another bite, using the foil to knock another fruit down to him. A sticky, light substance smeared his face with each bite. 

“They’re also supposed to repel bugs ‘n creepy crawlies,” he said with his mouth full. “But I can eat ‘em just fine!” He paused as he shoved the rest of the fruit into his mouth whole, cheeks bulging like a rabid squirrel. “Plus,” came his voice in her ear, “I’m a demon, kid! I’m not held to your human standards of  _ ‘edibility’ _ .”

Lydia couldn’t argue with that. She leaned back and swung her legs, waiting for him to finish. He ate the two fruits, including the stems, and snapped the remaining fruit away along with the fencing foil. A third arm popped up with a handkerchief, wiping his face. She was starting to suspect that was another of his favorite gags. 

“Took me a few centuries to get the hang’a using the damn thing, but it’s pretty convenient!”

Lydia nodded, absorbing how cheerful he looked. It was infectious-she couldn’t help a grin forming. “It is! That’s super fucking cool, Beej.” He preened at her praise. For a moment, it felt just like when she’d first summoned him, two strange and unusual friends just hanging out.

But then a familiar car pulled down the street and into the driveway, and Lydia remembered with a start what they had yet to do. She scrambled to her feet and Beetlejuice pulled himself up next to her, confused. 

“What’s up, Lyds? You late for somethin’?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s- you still haven’t apologized to the Maitlands, dad, or stepmother, and dad just got home. I don’t want him to spot you and freak out before we can get stuff resolved!”

“Ah.” And just like that, his hair was doused, blue shooting down in place of the neon green. “Yeah, you… you got a point, kid.”

He sighed, gathering himself. He smoothed his jacket, fixed his tie, tugged at his lapels. “So, got a game plan?” He asked as he uselessly tried to rub out a dark stain on his sleeve. “Or am I just gonna go in there and do some improv?”

Lydia bit her lip as she thought. “Maybe… how about I bring it up at dinner? And after, assuming they don’t ground me on the spot, you apologize?”

Beetlejuice nodded, running a hand through his grimy, blue hair. “Yeah, that sounds okay. You gonna be alright in there, facin’ down the parentals?”

Lydia made a wobbly hand gesture, dusting off her dress. “Probably. They’re all pretty easy on me these days.” She smirked at him. “If I need your help, I can always just summon you, anyway!”

Beetlejuice shook his head emphatically. “Lyds, sweetheart, no. That’d just cause more trouble, right? If I wanna say anythin’ before I get thrown back underground, I gotta be patient.” Her face fell. He turned, starting to pace nervously. “Otherwise I’m back to square one, the only family you have up here hates me more,  _ and _ there’s no narrative payoff!”

Lydia couldn’t fault him for being stressed about the idea, but it deflated her a bit. “Well, how about- how about you listen in? That way you’ll know what to expect, and if things go haywire you can jump in!”

He looked anxious, but nodded as he passed her. “Alright. I’ll stick close. ‘Bout how long do ya think it’ll be?” 

She glanced at her phone, at the sun, and finally met Beej’s roving gaze. “We usually eat about half an hour after dad gets back,” she explained. “So you could probably just go and start eavesdropping now, honestly?”

Beetlejuice grimaced, continuing to pace in a tight loop around Lydia. “Honestly, I wish I didn’t hafta’ do shit like this. I already know they don’t like me- I don’t wanna hafta’ hear whatever they say when I’m  _ not  _ around.”

Lydia winced. “Yeah, that’s...that’s fair, Beej. It’ll only be for a little bit, at least?”

She reached out for his coat’s bottom edge. He stopped in his tracks and nodded, blue plume of hair seeming to droop. “Yeah. I can handle it, I’m a grown-ass demon. Go butter up your folks, I’ll be waitin’.”

She didn’t need to be told twice; Adam would usually come check on her around this time, to get her to set the table. She climbed back through the window, shutting it between herself and Beetlejuice, and watched him sadly float out of sight. A familiar chill passed through her, and she returned to her creative writing assignment just in time for Adam to open the door.

“Hey, hon,” he said cheerfully, “We’re having chili for dinner! Would you mind helping set the table in about five minutes?”

Too predictable. Lydia resisted the urge to roll her eyes and nodded. “I’m almost done with my homework, so I’ll finish it and come down.” 

(That was A Lie™; she was going to leave the rest of this creative writing for tomorrow morning. Morning Lydia had better ideas than evening Lydia.)

Adam was satisfied with that, smiling and popping back out of her room. She wrote maybe a dozen words before getting up, stretching her arms and shaking the tension out. Okay. Time to perform. 

Lydia headed downstairs, one eye on the windows and another on her family. Barbara was tending the chili pot, with Delia minding some tofu baked beans and Adam pulling out silverware and plates. He and Barbara liked the normalcy of sitting at the table with the breathing family members, even if their plates remained empty. She glanced into the living room. Dad was in there as usual, reading the newspaper. 

Lydia stepped into the kitchen, easily matching the hustle of her parents. When she took the plates from Adam, he smiled at her, warm and fond, and she felt a pang of regret that she was about to drop something so stressful on him. 

“-could’ve sworn I saw horse apples falling past the window earlier!” Barbara was saying to Delia. “It’s the strangest thing. I know there’s a few of those trees in the woods outside of town, but how would the fruit have gotten here?” Barbara glanced up at Lydia as she snuck by and paused. “Lydia, did you collect some horse apples for some reason?”

Lydia held back a snicker, shaking her head. “I have no idea what you mean, Barbara dearest,” she replied innocently. Barbara squinted, but shrugged and let it go. 

“Oh, Lydia,” Delia piped up, “be a dear and taste test this for me?” 

Lydia complied, leaning over and taking a spoonful of beans while Adam piled bundles of silverware into her other hand. “‘S good! Could use a little more pepper.” Delia nodded. Lydia stepped away, lining utensils up at all five seats at the table. 

Soon enough the whole family was assembling, food being served and everyone settling at their seats. Adam and Barbara never took any food, seeing as how they couldn’t eat and didn’t want the food to go to waste. Lydia, Dad, and Delia, meanwhile, took their fills. Dad chatted idly with Delia about a house he was flipping... Delia told the Maitlands about a little crystal shop she was going to apply at… and Lydia stayed mostly quiet as she ate, waiting for a good moment to speak up. 

She glanced out the window and saw the tips of purple hair just visible over the edge of the sill. She shouldn’t put this off any longer. Lydia gathered herself with a deep breath and a throat clearing, drawing the eyes of her parents. 

“Lydia, you’ve been awfully quiet. Rough day at school?” Adam asked sympathetically. 

“Well, no, but… something  _ has  _ been weighing on me,” Lydia admitted. She had their full attention now. A brief moment of hesitation, then it’s time to rip the metaphorical bandaid off.

…

…

…

**_“Beetlejuice wants to apologize!”_ **

Silence. 

Adam and Barbara turned to each other. Delia’s eyebrows raised. Dad’s lips pursed and his brows furrowed, blood pressure undoubtedly rising already.

And then, chaos. Everyone spoke up at once.

“Lydia, how did y-“

_ “I don’t think that’s a good-“ _

_ “Did he hurt you? When did-“ _

**_“Why now? It’s been-“_ **

_ “Calm down,  _ one at a time!” She exclaimed, raising her voice to be heard over the ruckus. She held up a hand. “And before you ask, he apologized to me already and hasn’t so much as made a scary face at me since he did.”

Her parents’ volume sank from a loud argument to a quiet buzz. Barbara and Adam leaned their heads close and murmured. Next to them, Dad did a breathing exercise and Delia patted his arm sweetly. 

Finally, Barbara turned. “Lydia,” she began, concern lacing her tone. “When did he apologize to you? When has he had a chance?”

Lydia paused, steeling herself before she spoke. “When I went on the roof to take pictures of the stars last night,” she admitted. “He showed up and apologized for all the stuff he’d done, and then he started crying when I said it was ok. I think he really feels bad about what he did.”

More hushed words. Lydia looked back up at her family. Barbara looked suspicious, but Adam was considering it. Dad was massaging his temples, and Delia whispered something about second chances loud enough for her to hear. 

Dad spoke without looking up. “I need to sleep before I confront that beast again. Lydia, I would appreciate it if you didn’t  _ fraternize _ with the demon who tried to  _ marry you.” _

“It wasn’t like that!!” She insisted. Dad's head came up to read her expression. “He’s not  _ that  _ kind of monster! I’m a teen girl, Dad, I can tell when someone’s got weird motives.”

He looked dubious. “Lydia, he didn’t say a single thing during that whole... _ trickery shebang _ with the wedding. I brought up  _ Lolita. _ Lolita is the most not-okay piece of literature on the planet! I-” He took a deep breath and sighed it out, massaging his temple.

“He’s not human! He knows _ some  _ pop culture, but he clearly doesn’t know  _ all  _ of it. I had to explain what the Saw movies were when we were haunting the house. And anyway,” Lydia huffed, “You worked with Maxie. That guy is more of a threat to teenage girls than Beej is. Wish you would’ve let me deck him.”

Dad winced. “You’ve got a point there. Don’t worry, though. Maxie won’t be a danger to anyone for a long while.” A grim smile formed on his face. “I caught him skimming from the accounts he managed, and he’ll be in prison for fraud for decades.” 

Lydia paused, then nodded. That was an acceptable fate for a garbage man. “I’m glad he’s gone, then. Back to Beetlejuice, though?”

He still looked uneasy, but relented under her fiery glare. “Alright, _ alright. _ Even if he  _ isn’t  _ that kind of person, though, he still endangered… well, all of us. I don’t want you alone with him, Lydia.”

She huffed at him again, but she could see his point. Beej hadn’t apologized to him yet. “Once you talk with him, you’ll understand why I still trust him,” she said stubbornly. Dad seemed to consider that a little, but then Barbara spoke up. 

“-Is that his hair?”

Lydia’s head whipped up to the window, where she watched the top of Beetlejuice's purple head drop suddenly out of view. Barbara and Adam made twin noises of affront, standing from the table with identical movements. They both started in on lecturing, chastising her for trusting him and venting about his eavesdropping at the same time.

Lydia shrank. He’d only listened in because she’d convinced him to. He was only in trouble (well,  _ more _ trouble) because of her. She sighed, turning towards the window. 

“Come on in, Beej, they know.”

He gradually appeared in the window again, scooting up little by little until his guilt-ridden face could be seen. He gave a weak smile and wave, hair deepening in hue as they all glared at him. He sighed, phasing through the window with a little wince and straightening up as far from them as he could get. 

Beetlejuice fidgeted with his suit, flattening his lapels, straightening his tie, and tugging at his cuffs. His gaze dropped to the floor. 

“...Hi,” he finally said, weakly. “I know, uh, none of you want to see me- ‘sides Scarecrow, that is- so, uh, I can. Do this quick?”

“No.” Lydia’s attention snapped to Barbara, who was standing straight and tall across the table from her. She emanated rage, fists clenched at her sides. 

“No. I don’t want to hear it. Whatever  _ bullshit  _ you said to Lydia won’t work on us,  **_demon._ ** ” She spat the last word like it tasted foul. Beetlejuice flinched back, raising his hands in a placating gesture. 

“Just hear him out!” Lydia exclaimed. Barbara didn’t seem to hear her. Dad and Delia were just sitting back, watching everything go down. 

“Hey, hey, I get you’re mad- and it’s, it’s fair, I get it-“

“Do you?  _ Do  _ you ‘get it?’” She rounded the table, Adam following on her heels as backup. “You messed up everyone in this house. Every single one of us suffered at _ your _ hands. You married our  _ teen daughter,  _ manipulated us, possessed us-not to mention you  _ nearly destroyed my fucking soul. _ We’ve all been wracked with nightmares about what you did,  _ Mr. Juice,  _ including Lydia. Now, I don’t know what you said to her to get her to  _ agree  _ to this, but I’d appreciate it if you left now before we have to throw you out.”

Beej’s eyes were wide, his trembling hands tucked under his coat and hidden by the stiff fabric. He cast about desperately, but the only sympathetic eyes belonged to Lydia. Charles was massaging his temples, Delia was examining a spot on her sleeve, and the Maitlands kept approaching, backing him further and further into the corner he barely fit in. 

His dark purple hair dripped lavender, the lighter shade obviously not reflecting a lightening of mood. Lydia could practically taste his shame from her seat. His eyes shifted, staring at nothing. 

“...’m sorry,” he mumbled. “For what little it’s worth. ‘M real sorry.”

“BJ, cmon! Don’t let them scare you! You wanted to apologize properly, so do it!”

His eyes darted up to her, and she realised with a pang that he was on the verge of tears. “Sorry, kid,” he croaked, “looks like BJ’s out of the band after all. Thanks for tryin’.”

He snapped and disappeared. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your kudos and comments thus far! I thrive on feedback, so let me know what you think! I hope y'all continue to enjoy this fic ^^ (And don't worry, Beej won't have to suffer alone for _too_ much longer.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it rains it pours! Two friends get soaked moping, and the Maitlands find a drenched rat outside their window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again y'all! Sorry this chapter took longer than my last one- it's the same length as the first two chapters combined, so it took awhile to edit! A lot of talking happens in this chapter, and I hope it conveys everything I intended. There is more discussion of pedophilia and some of sexual harassment, so read with caution!
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and feedback as well! Knowing people are enjoying the fic, reading into the details, or just feeling bad for Bug Man on his Wild Ride means a lot to me! It's less relevant this time, but my hair chart is [here as always](https://nerdofnerds.tumblr.com/post/611646824275689472/i-made-a-beetlejuice-hair-color-chart-for-the-fic) and I hope you enjoy!

The rest of the week passed in a haze… normal, mostly, save for the tension between Lydia and her family. 

Since that night that Beetlejuice had tried to apologize to the others, she’d been snapping at her parents. It was rude, she knew; they had the right to be angry, to be upset. But they hadn’t  _ seen _ him when he apologized to her! They hadn’t heard the way he cried like every sob ached and every sniff burned from the emotional pain he was in… or been crushed in his surprisingly strong arms. 

That night she’d stomped upstairs when her family acted like bullying him was a  _ good _ thing. She’d slammed and locked her door… and simply refused to come out all night, unable to stand the self-satisfaction on their faces. 

(She spent a lot of the night shedding angry tears for Beetlejuice, outraged on his behalf.) 

Delia had come to the door to tell her she wasn’t in trouble, that she understood the demon meant a lot to her and she’d convinced Charles not to ground her. Lydia hadn’t responded, and had simply sat stewing until she heard footsteps retreating.

But the next day, she had school. So she got up, got ready, ate breakfast, and left… all in a stony silence. Gone were the pleasant morning discussions and singing in the shower. She walked to school, forgoing an awkward car ride. 

This continued all week. Saturday, she ran out of the house early to photograph the forest, just as an excuse to get away from them for a day. The clouds were dark and heavy all morning, though, so when it suddenly started pouring in the afternoon Lydia wasn’t surprised. 

She hid under the trees and dodged gusts of chilly drops for as long as she could stand. A sudden burst of wind soaked her jeans, however, and that was enough. She sighed and started trudging back to the house, camera tucked safe and dry in her bag while the rest of her clothes slowly became waterlogged.

~

Beetlejuice shivered. 

There wasn’t much else he could do, really- he’d been soaked to the bone by the rain. Miss Argentina had gotten tired of his moping and tossed him back with a command to “try again!” but neither had expected it to be raining. 

So he’d been sitting on top of the chimney. Alone. Letting the water work it’s way into every fold of his coat- permeating a deep layer of filth he’d built up with every funeral, wake, and graveyard rave. He fingered his wet, floppy tie. It was gonna take  _ a while  _ for him to dry out- the last time he’d gotten this soaked was during the Midwest’s Great Flood of ‘93, when he’d popped in for some gooey butter cake and landed in 8 feet of murky river water. That had taken a month to fully dry out from, and he  _ still  _ found fish in his pockets sometimes. 

He eyed the windows for the umpteenth time. His best bet was getting inside so he could draw a chalk door and leave. He was pretty sure Miss Argentina had mentioned a new arrival who set himself on fire at camp- Maybe he could help dry him out quicker?

(And sure, he could always leave the house and try somewhere else, but he didn’t  _ want  _ to. He was stubborn. He wanted to see these boring, normal people and their boring, normal ghosts and their completely strange and unusual daughter again. Even if they hated him… even  _ though  _ they hated him. Even if they kicked him out immediately and he never got to see any of them again!)

(...Sentimental. Just like Ma said.)

He peered back up at the sky, shading his eyes. His perch on the chimney gave him a perfect vantage point. The dark, heavy clouds continued to pour, and they covered the entire sky uniformly. Shit… this rain wasn’t gonna let up anytime soon. 

He dropped his hand and let it pelt his face, closing his eyes against the assault. He could almost pretend it was like the time he briefly haunted Guantanamo Bay; like he was getting punished by someone that wasn’t himself. 

He wasn’t even sure why he felt so shitty. He’d never really ‘regretted’ things like this before… before Lydia. He hadn’t even killed anyone! He knew he could  _ feel more  _ now that he’d been alive, but he had no idea why this house, of all houses, was giving him such intense pain. Why what he’d done here felt so much bigger than everything else. Anger flared briefly, but the pounding rain left no space for it. 

A dark roll of thunder filled the air, and Beetlejuice suddenly remembered he was at the highest point of the house, sopping wet, in the middle of a storm. He scrambled down from the chimney, claws slipping on the slick bricks. Water splashed up his pant leg as he landed on the balcony, and he reflexively shook it like a dog. He moved towards the side of the house, reaching for a windowsill. A burst of light made him wince, leaning back-

The lights in one of the windows had come on. 

The Maitlands. 

He felt that dark, spiraling anxiety grip his re-dead heart. They were in the attic. If he wanted to go inside, he’d either have to face them or break into Lydia’s room. And while Lydia likely wouldn’t mind him, her parents would. He didn’t want to get her in trouble again so soon after his failed apology. He hadn’t stuck around to hear her get grounded, sure- he’d just made himself invisible and bolted for the roof- but he was certain she was already facing all sorts of punishments for trying to help him.

Okay. Attic it was, then. He’d just- ask to come in long enough to draw a door. Yeah. That’d work. He could just… use their chalk and be gone before he caused any more problems. Before sweet Babs could eat him alive. Before Adam could look at him with hate in those beautiful eyes again. 

Lightning flashed and he watched his shadow darken the floor… mocking him by sneaking inside before he could. Right… okay. Now or never. He raised a hand and rapped on the window with a claw, holding his breath. 

A quiet shuffling inside, and then Adam was at the window. He looked- well, like a boring dad who gets excited about driving a sedan. Which is to say, very sexy. He had shock written all over his face, but that was soon replaced with something… a little softer? 

...Not hatred. He could work with not hatred. 

Adam opened the window halfway. Beetlejuice sighed and leaned down, glancing up to see Adam had done the same. 

“What’re you doing out there? You look completely waterlogged!”

“Miss Argentina kicked me out. The rain keeps fuckin’, washing the chalk away, so I can’t leave. Any chance I could, uh, come inside to draw the door? I know y’all ain’t wanna deal with me, but I’ll be outta your hair soon as I can.” He grimaced. “She ain’t gonna like me soaking the lobby, but I don’t really got anywhere else to go…  _ sooooooooo...” _

Adam leaned back. He talked to someone Beetlejuice couldn’t see, one hand waving animatedly. Beetlejuice strained, but he couldn’t make out the words over the roar of the rain. Adam turned back to Beetlejuice and patted the windowsill before moving out of sight himself. 

Beetlejuice waited. He could feel the rain pattering on his back, and tried not to shiver too much. He curled his fingers, tucking his hands into his sleeves so that maybe he’d still be able to  _ hold _ the chalk if they did let him in. 

Cloth billowed suddenly in front of the window, startling him more than he wanted to admit. Adam hustled back into view, laying piles of it down on the floor. Beetlejuice couldn’t fully make out what it was with all the water in his eyes, but he assumed it was a stash of towels. Of course- they wouldn’t want him ruining the  _ floorboards _ , Satan  _ forbid.  _

Adam came back to the window after the pile in his arms was exhausted, and opened it fully. “Come in,” he beckoned, so Beetlejuice did. He didn’t fit through the window as easily as Lydia had, but he forced himself through and found himself standing in the warm, dry attic. He stepped in, away from the window, and heard it shut behind him. The roar of the rain dulled to simple white noise.

Adam handed him a towel. Beetlejuice took it reflexively, wiping off his face and pushing his mop of dark hair back out of his eyes. He winced as he saw how much  _ gunk  _ had come off on it. They wouldn’t like having to clean up after him again. Just another thing they didn’t like about him... another reason to get out of dodge quick.

Something brushed his back, and he startled, spinning around to face the threat- but it was just Barbara. Surprise read on her face. A larger towel was in her outstretched hands, and all he could do was stare dumbfounded at her, at the offered fabric. 

“...I don’t know if demons can get sick,” she muttered finally, breaking eye contact and throwing the towel around his shoulders, “but if you were human, you’d be catching your death of cold by now.”

He blinked. Why was she- why were  _ they  _ being nice to him? They’d _ just  _ yelled him out of the house a few days ago. He wanted to ask, but- but he wasn’t gonna scare them off again so quickly. They’d get mad if he asked, like Ma did. And what if they weren’t being nice for his sake, anyway? They probably just wanted to dry him off so he wouldn’t get everything wet… so the attic wouldn’t smell like a bloated lake corpse washed up in it. The towels beneath him were already starting to soak through, too, so drying him off more would preserve that  _ precious _ wood paneling.

“Th-thanks,” he managed, wrapping the towel a little closer. Had he been shivering this hard outside? They were both staring at him- Adam looked almost worried? Barbara looked… conflicted. He… didn’t know what to say. What to think. What they were going to do to him. So he turned away, digging through his pockets. His shaking hands left him struggling to grasp the situation  _ and  _ the chalk.

“Gimme j-just a sec and I’ll be gone. Won’t- won’t have to deal with me again. I just gotta- gotta- gotta find my  _ fucking  _ chalk-“

He finally grabbed a box and triumphantly pulled it out, grin dropping when he found it was simply an old box of cigars. 

“Shit. I thought I- uh- returned these. No wonder Bugsy st-still won’t talk to me.” His attempt at a joke drew no smiles or laughs from the couple next to him. He gave up, dropping the cigars back into his endless pockets as he dropped his gaze to the toweled floor. 

After a long silence he sighed, running a hand through his unusually flat hair. His claws scratched at his scalp, just the right amount of painful, and he wiped his hand on the towel over his shoulders when he’d ruffled his hair up a bit. “Can I-“ he thrust a shaking hand out towards them, and Barbara flinched. “-can I use your chalk? Mine has apparently been, uh, consumed by the, the infinite abyss that is my pockets.”

They shared a long look, like they were having a whole conversation with just their eyes. After a long beat, Adam stepped forward. He bent to the floor and picked up one of the dry towels, tossing it over Beetlejuice’s head. 

“You can… you can dry off some before you leave. It’s okay. You don’t have to hurry back like this.”

Beetlejuice pulled the towel off of his head. 

“But-  _ why??” _

The question burst from him, confusion outweighing his instinctive desire to keep them from getting mad. “Why do you  _ care?  _ I hurt you, an’- an’ you clearly don’t wanna hear my apologies, judgin’ by the other night. So lemme just get outta your dead-lives before I fuck ‘em up any more!”

Barbara made a little humming noise, and he tensed immediately, wary of her anger. His fingers fidgeted with the frayed ends of the towel, going over them again and again and again. 

“I…” she started. “I don’t like you, Beetlejuice. I’m sure you’re aware why.”

He nodded, casually backing up towards the corner of the room. If worst came to worst, he could phase back outside and dash. Not like they could reach him outside the house.

“But...” she continued. “Lydia cares about you. And she’s been rather upset that we didn’t let you say your piece the other night.”

“You don’t gotta!” Beetlejuice interjected. “It’s, like- I know I fucked, uh, almost everything up for you two. But it’s your decision on, uh, if you wanna, hear me out? I do get it, not wanting’ ta- ta have me around long enough to apologize. I can cause a lotta mayhem real quick.”

Barbara nodded in his periphery. “You sure  _ can.  _ But we...we came to the decision that we’d hear you out. Not immediately forgiving, mind,” she held up a finger in warning, “but we’ll hear what you have to say for yourself.”

Beetlejuice blinked. Looked up at them, eyes darting between them almost faster than his brain could keep up with. They didn’t…  _ look _ like they were lying. A burst of hope hit him square in the chest, and their eyes flicked to his hair. 

“Okay! You aren’t gonna regret this. Gimme just one second.” He toweled at his hair furiously, leaving it ruffled and poomfed up again. Then he scrubbed at his face, the towel catching on his scruff. The rest of him was still dripping, but now he felt a little fresher. His shaking downgraded to the occasional spasm, which he considered a success.

“So!” He steadied his footing and adopted a snooty British accent. “I, Lawrence Beeblebuice Shoggoth, would like to formally apologize for the emotional distress, physical distress, property damage, and related tomfoolery I have inflicted upon your persons. My actions were unnecessary and, quite frankly, out of line, and I beg your forgiveness most humbly.”

He grinned in what he hoped was an endearing manner. 

They both took a moment to process that. Adam’s head tilted, adorably, like a fucking puppy. “Beeblebuice Shoggoth?”

“Oh, yeah. Since I can’t say my own fuckin’ name, that’s the closest I can get to it. An’, uh,” he fidgeted. “Ma said that was my dad’s name, I ain’t got any more context for it than that.”

Adam nodded, and Barbara rolled her eyes. She spoke up, skepticism coloring her tone.

“Is this another joke to you? I may have been… harsh, the other night, but I meant what I said, Mister. If you’re just trying to  _ play us-” _

Beetlejuice waved his hands frantically. “No!! No, I promise I ain’t. I just- I had a whole thing prepared f’r y’all when I saw Lyds the other night, but I didn’t get t’use it, so I’m back to improv.” His gaze drifted away from them as his thoughts did. “This recent arrival we got was real certain that kinda prep thing’d help? Real humdinger of a death, too.” He paused, a mischievous smile slowly forming. “Guy was a shrink, an’ he kept psychoanalyzing his wife all the goddamn time. She got fed up an’ wound up hypnotizin’ him to kill them both!”

He chuckled awkwardly, not quite up to his usual cackle. “The two of ‘em had to spend, like, a month in the lobby as the receptionists and higher-ups argued about whether  _ he _ committed a murder-suicide,  _ she  _ committed a murder-suicide, it was joint murder, or joint suicide! They were at each other’s throats like, _ instantly,  _ so I got enlisted to keep ‘em busy. An’ that turned into…” He sobered, suddenly aware of their eyes on him again. “Talkin’. About this stuff. Uh.”

His gaze dropped and he started fidgeting again, tugging at a loose thread hanging from his cuff. “The guy said workin’ out what I wanted t’say and how would help me, uh, say it, but that’s all out the window, so. All I got is the cliffnotes and the gross twisty feelin’ in my torso to go by.”

Adam made a cute little sound. It sounded an awful lot like the noise he made when he watched a puppy play fetch for the first time… y’know, from back when Beetlejuice was haunting them. 

On second thought, he should probably apologize for that too, huh?

“Well, what are the cliffnotes, then? You could… tell us those, and expand on them as we have questions?”

Adam was being so nice. So cute. It made Beetlejuice feel all weird… suspicion and affection mixing into an unhealthy cocktail in his gut. The Maitlands both looked to his hair again, and he quickly reigned in those emotions. He knew his tell had gotten worse since that brief stint at life, but thankfully, even a fleeting thought about the shame he felt overwhelmed him, surely dousing whatever other color was goin’ on up there.

“Uh, well, there’s…” He lifted his fingers, ticking them off as he spoke. “Hauntin’ you, manipulatin’ you, extortin’ you, lyin’ to you about the exorcism thing, fuckin’ up the house, Lydia, Game Show, bein’  _ moronic  _ enough that Ma came up to ream me an’ gettin’ y’all dragged into it, sandworm damages. Oh, and horse apples.” He tugged at his damp shirt where it clung to his stomach. “‘M sorry for. All of that.”

Barbara squinted at him, but before she could say anything Adam giggled nervously. “Okay, well…  _ that’s a list. _ I understand most of it, but… I don’t remember being… haunted.”

Beetlejuice nodded, absently winding his soggy tie up inside one of the towels they’d handed him. “Yeah, uh… I was gonna see if you guys would summon me, since you seemed like you might actually do it just cuz you’re nice? But nothin’ I did drew a single reaction outta ya. Like, I made the stairs creak at night, passed shadows in front of windows, put monsters in mirrors- Nothin’! You two were so fuckin’, focused on livin’ that you couldn’t even begin to think about the dead.”

They shared a look, remorseful, and Beetlejuice averted his eyes. He didn’t understand what they were feeling, even if he pretended to, and it stung in a strange way. 

“So, uh,” he continued, “See, Ma has-  _ had- _ this bigass book full of impendin’ potential death dates for peeps, yeah? So I bribed one of the receptionists to peek in, see if anyone in the area was gonna croak soon, and sure ‘nuff you two were on the list. So. I stuck around.” He refused to look up, focused on his gleaming wet dress shoes. “Figured if you didn’t die, hey, no harm no foul, I’d go haunt that ol’ geezer three streets down. And if you  _ did _ die, then maybe…” 

He trailed off, ashamed to admit his weakness. Barbara stepped forward. He twitched but held his ground, unwilling to show them just how out of his comfort zone he was here. 

“...Maybe you wouldn’t be alone anymore?” Barbara asked. 

Beetlejuice continued refusing to look up, nodding. “Meant I was here when you  _ did  _ croak, but… it was definitely weird on my part. Like, I didn’t perv on you guys or anythin’, but I shoulda’ just left when Adam walked  _ right past  _ my super cool shadow person like four times. I’m… I’m sorry.” 

Barbara hummed. “Well, I can’t say I’m  _ happy  _ to find this out  _ now, _ but I’m glad you didn’t use your invisibility towards… nefarious ends. Thank you for apologizing, Beetlejuice.”

He nodded and felt himself grow a little bit more hopeful. After a pause, he spoke again, voice wistful. “You guys are lucky, though. Dyin’ with someone- ‘specially someone you love?- that shit’s rare as fuck. You’ll never have to be alone,  _ ever,  _ in your afterlives.” He finally glanced up, to find them making eyes at each other. He tried to ignore the weird way it hit him, the fondness and jealousy churning. “It’s… it sucks, bein’ dead alone. You guys are too nice for it. I’m glad you ain’t gotta deal with that part of the whole shebang.”

Adam smiled at him, and Beetlejuice’s heart buzzed in his chest cavity. When they made him leave forever, at least he’d have that smile. “Thank you, Beetlejuice. That’s...surprisingly sweet.”

Barbara smiled fondly at the air for a moment, like she was remembering something nice, and then snapped back to the present. The soft glow about her died as she folded her arms and a frown grew. Beetlejuice felt himself shrink back again. She knew how to maintain a presence way better than most ghosts did, that’s for damn sure.

“Wait. You mentioned ‘lying to us about the exorcism thing’? Beetlejuice, what does that  _ mean? _ ”

Adam paused, thoughtful. “I have to admit, I’m curious as well. Beetlejuice?”

Beetlejuice’s spine shot straight, and he offered them a nervous grin. Here’s hoping he didn’t fuck it up! Words spilled out of his mouth in a relentless stream. “Okay, okay. So, yknow how I told Lydia ‘if you say this bullshit rhyme it’ll totally summon your mom’ and then she did say it and I was all like ‘raugh I’m here to fuck up our entire schtick and exorcise Babs’ and she was like ‘oh no oh god oh fuck’?” He sucked in a breath as he judged their reactions. Both seemed lost, but not for long! “Yeah… that was all  _ crap.  _ I just scribbled that rhyme down so I’d have an audio cue to come on stage and fuck shit up.”

Barbara’s brows drew together as her frown deepened. God, she looked so beautiful when she was figuring something out. “So… wait. The rhyme wasn’t a summoning thing, but it also wasn’t for exorcism after all? Then how did..?”

Beetlejuice set the towels he’d been fidgeting with on his shoulders and wiggled his fingers in the air. “Possession, baby! You weren’t in any, like,  _ actual  _ danger. I was pissed as hell, but I wasn’t about to separate ya. That’d be too much, ‘specially since I was mostly mad at Lyds, not you.” 

Barbara’s shell-shocked gaze dropped to her hands. She slowly wiggled her fingers in the same pattern Beetlejuice had. Adam’s hand found her shoulder. She sounded dazed as she spoke, like she was mentally very far away. “So… but, wait. When you possessed us on the roof, I could still see and hear things. When I was being exorcised- or, I suppose, when I thought I was being exorcised- All of my senses just shut off. How-?”

“It’s another part of the trick!” Beetlejuice bounced a little. “See, like, when you possess someone you push a little bit of yourself into ‘em, yeah? I just pushed you far enough into your ghost-body that you were cut off from your senses. That way you wouldn’t panic up there, I could make you scream for dramatic effect, an’ everyone else would assume you  _ were  _ gettin’ exorcised so I could act like I had the advantage and press the.” His excitement dropped as he remembered what came next. “The. Marriage thing. Um.”

He drummed his fingers on his wet thighs, eyes sinking back to the betoweled floor. His shoes had left clear mud prints on a few of them, and he could see they’d been discolored by the grimy water running from his body. Speaking of his body- it was growing colder by the minute as the remaining water clung to fabric and skin. He tucked the edge of the smaller towel into his shirt pocket, pressing to draw water into it. 

-And then he was doing nothing, completely wrapped in an endless void. He tried to flail instinctively, but his limbs felt heavy and distant. He screamed more and more desperately but nothing made it from his mind to his windpipe. He panicked, the swirling darkness of his thoughts barraging him with possibilities- they’d banished him, they’d teleported him somewhere, Ma was back and punishing him for being bad-  _ ‘Maybe if you were a good son I wouldn’t have to do this,’ _ she’d always say when she punished him, and some part of him wanted so desperately to be good, to be  _ good enough- _

But then he felt his throat speak, faintly, like it was miles away. He hadn’t done that. Which meant that someone else had control of his body, and he was simply along for the ride. He forced his racing thoughts to slow their roll. Ma was still dead. (Probably.) He wasn’t banished. He wasn’t in the Isolation Room, he was just trapped in his own psyche. And considering what he’d just talked to the Maitlands about-

He dropped back into his senses as his feet hit the floor. He fell to his knees, unprepared, and Adam winced sympathetically. He took a minute to orient himself, flexing his hands and toes to confirm he had control before looking back up at the couple. 

Adam was grinning at Barbara. Sweet, kind Adam. Barbara- beautiful, amazing, whip-smart Barbara- was watching him with a strange look on her face. All he could do was gaze back up at them for a moment, dazed, before Adam laced his fingers through Barbara’s own and the affection trickling through his mind bloomed. He jumped to his feet, existential crisis forgotten as quickly as it had occurred.

“Barbara, you clever minx! I’m so proud of you!!” He started to move in for a hug, but reconsidered at the disgust that flitted across their faces. He kept talking as he backed away with his hands raised. “I always knew you two would get the hang of it eventually! So c’mon, tell me, what’d you make me say?”

She spoke slowly. “I made you say ‘Look at me, I’m a big dumb asshole.’”

Beetlejuice laughed, feeling lighter than he had in ages. “Right on the money with that one! Good fuckin’ work, Babs.”

Barbara folded her arms, conflict clear on her face. “I have to admit, it’s nice to know I wasn’t really in danger,” she slowly said. “But that experience was still deeply unpleasant. It’s- well, for lack of a better word, haunted me for months. This knowledge doesn’t change that.”

Beetlejuice nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair. An’ I’m _ sorry _ , honest to God-slash-Satan! But I wanted ta’ let you know you weren’t… y’kno… Actually dyin’.”

_ (‘Because maybe then you might not hate me as much,'  _ he didn’t say. _ ‘Because I’m so lonely I’d rather come back to this house full of people who hate me and try to win them over than spend one more millenia trying to find anyone else willing to believe I'm there.’) _

“I... appreciate that,” she said slowly, and Beetlejuice’s undead heart thumped. “Now, about  _ Lydia?” _

Beetlejuice winced. “Okay, so, I already talked this over with the kid, but I wanted you guys t’know that, like… I had  _ no  _ intentions’a bein’  _ that kinda creep  _ with her.” His hand drifted to his abdomen absentmindedly. “Like, obviously I fuckin’ deserved what y’all pulled either way- what I did was real fucked, an’ the kid has nerves of fuckin’  _ steel  _ to play along like she did- Baby’s First Murder is always a big occasion, an’ I’m proud as hell! But.” He steeled himself and met their eyes, hoping to God-slash-Satan his stupid hair conveyed how serious he was. “I am  _ not a pedophile.  _ I may be a monster, but I am not  _ that kind.” _

Barbara squinted at him. Her nose wrinkled like she’d smelled something foul. “Then why didn’t you say anything while we were trying to trick you? You went along with it  _ pretty easily.” _

“Oh- I _ knew _ you guys were gonna double-cross me!” Beetlejuice chuckled. “It was pretty fuckin’ obvious. But, uh, when you started…” He paused, eyes tracking to the rain pattering against the window. “When you guys started bein’, like, affectionate an’ shit, I figured, like… obviously it was super weird and fucked up, but I got. Distracted.” His train of thought zeroed back in on the station, and he looked back to them. “I figured I’d let y’all lay it on too thick an’ pull whatever you were gonna pull, as long as I got to be alive. And I did! For 56 seconds, sure, but I got to be alive. Got my wish.”

The couple both relaxed a little, like strings holding their shoulders up had been cut. “Why would you ask  _ her  _ to marry you, then?” Adam asked, adorable face confounded.

“Well, y’see, the person has to be alive for it ta’ count, so you two were out,” Beetlejuice started. “Then, like, Chuck n’ Diana had just got engaged, so I couldn’t ask either a’  _ them,  _ since I’m  _ pretty sure  _ havin’ two spouses still ain’t legal up here.” Adam opened his mouth and Beetlejuice held up a finger. “Before you ask, anythin’ goes in the Netherworld. But uh, I couldn’t leave the house since she summoned me inside, an’ I wasn’t gonna force any a’ the people we pranked to marry me… soooooo…”

He shrugged. “Lydia was the last one left.”

Adam nodded, but stayed quiet. His thumb ran over Barbara’s knuckles, a particular pattern. Beetlejuice fidgeted with his claws, mirroring the pattern, until he couldn’t bear it anymore.

“An’! An’, for reference, once I was alive I was plannin’ to just leave. That way, I could go like… experience things an’ you guys wouldn’t have to deal with me. Much. I can…” He tucked his fingers into his pants pockets, forcing them to still. “I can tell when people don’t want me around. I jus’ pretend not to.”

Adam blinked, surprise and-  _ sympathy? Is that sympathy?-  _ flashing across his face. Barbara winced next to him. 

“But, like… I  _ am  _ real sorry about all a’ that. If I had just kept my goddamn cool, things prob’ly woulda… well, maybe not gone  _ well,  _ but shit wouldn’t’a hit the fan the way it did. An’ I’m sorry you two had’ta deal with pretendin’ you were chill with child marriage.” He winced. “If I ever get ta’ apologize to Chuck, I’m gonna hafta’ say a  _ lot.” _

“Well, it’s a relief that Lydia wasn’t in…  _ that kind  _ of danger,” Barbara slowly said. “Thank you for clarifying.”

“We were… rather worried, as I’m sure you can understand,” Adam added.

Beetlejuice winced but nodded. “Yeah. That shit was one of the first things to really start ta’ weigh on me, so I figured it should be at the top’a my list for… sayin’ t’y’all.” He scuffed at the towels beneath his feet with his shoe, watching the cloth bunch and relax as he moved. The group fell silent, and Beetlejuice felt a bit less worried about it this time. 

Adam squeezed his wife’s hand before dropping it, turning to address her. “Anything else you’re curious about in that list, hon?”

She nodded, squinting suspiciously at Beetlejuice. Her nose wrinkled again, in curiosity instead of disgust. “Yes. What was that about… horse apples?”

“Uh! Well! The other night, with Lyds, when ya saw some? That was me. Here, see, they’re just-” He reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out an absolutely massive horse apple. “I collect fruit n’ shit, since I never really know when I’m gonna get to eat next. Bein’ a spiritual vagabond an’ whatnot.” He thought of Lydia’s smile… how  _ good _ it felt to have someone happy to be around him, and a grin spread over his face without his input on the matter. He caught the edge of Adam’s frown as he looked back to them. “Lydia said I looked like one, so I manifested some of my collection for her. Couple fell.”

Barbara stared at him, the fruit in his hand, and back at him. She seemed to be arguing with herself, but finally asked, “Could I… have one? I hear they’re good for repelling spiders, and we’ve gotten a  _ lot  _ of those up here recently.”

Beetlejuice lit up. A favor! She may not trust him as far as she could throw him, but she  _ did _ trust him enough to accept his fucked up fruit. He tossed the one he had to her, careful not to throw too hard. “‘Course! Last count I got a couple hundred in here. Won’t miss one.”

Barbara caught the fruit, inspecting it carefully as he spoke. Finally, she looked up and nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Beetlejuice.” Her expression was still guarded, but not outright hostile, and he could work with that!

“No problem, babes!” He winked.

Adam looked between the two, a smile starting to grow, before it died and his expression turned cold. Anxiety immediately settled in Beetlejuice’s stomach. He tilted his head as he watched Adam share fervent whispers with Barbara, and when they both looked up they had carefully guarded expressions. 

“Is there… anything else you’d like to apologize for?” Adam asked. 

“Uhhhhh.” Beetlejuice ran through the list in his head. “No? I think I got my bases covered.” Anger grew across their faces, and the hope growing in his chest was squashed. What had he done? What had he  _ missed? _ “But!! If there’s, uh, somethin’ you  _ want  _ me to apologize for that I can? It was a  _ wild  _ couple weeks with the kid n’ I’m sure there’s some shit that I forgot.”

Adam sighed.  _ “An apology for the harassment would be nice.” _

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure I annoyed the fuck outta you with my antics, I’m-“

“Not that,” Adam interrupted. “The… sexual harassment. The kisses, groping, lewd jokes… that.”

Now Beetlejuice was just plain confused. He felt his head tilt again, ear brushing the cold, wet pile of towels on his shoulder. “But you said you liked that? Durin’ the,” he grimaced, “the whole wedding fiasco. Which I am, again,  _ very sorry for. _ ”

Adam rubbed his forehead. “I  _ lied,”  _ he ground out. Barbara set down the horse apple and glared at Beetlejuice from beside her husband, what little goodwill she had for him apparently forgotten. Beetlejuice felt the cold seep into his stomach and settle there as panic overtook him.

“Wait, but- most’a that shit was for comedic effect! Didn’t you hear the sound effects? That’s not  _ actual  _ harassment, it’s to make the audience laugh! I wouldn’t  _ actually- _ I’m not, not that kind of-“

_ “Comedic effect?”  _

Barbara glowered, and Beetlejuice remembered why he was so afraid of her. He shrunk in on himself. His fingers ran down his chilly, damp tie over and over and over again. 

“Mr. Juice,” she continued, “it is  _ not your place  _ to decide if something ‘counts’ as harassment. It’s the place of the people you  _ harassed.” _

Oh god, this was back to going horribly. He should have known he would fuck it up again, he should have  _ known,  _ Ma was right-

“I’m- I’m sorry, I-“

“Sorry doesn’t cut it if you don’t actually understand what’s wrong. Really just, I don’t-  _ I _ don’t understand how a billion-year-old man has never heard of the concept of consent before.” She waved her hand in the air in frustration. “For fuck’s sake- You know what television is, you know what Republicans are, you know what  _ heelies _ are… but  _ this _ is a new concept somehow?”

  
Barabara heaved a massive, steadying sigh, like she wanted it to file her taxes and take her to therapy. Her brow pinched tight, like if she could just squeeze hard enough, she could spear an inkling of understanding directly into his moth-bitten brain. He felt like a  _ moron. _

“Just- They  _ clearly  _ don’t have a class on human ethics in- Ghoul School, or wherever you learned your trade, so I don’t understand where in God’s name you’d get the idea that-”

“Cartoons!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for them to get angrier. He knew it was pitiful- embarrassing- probably even  _ creepy…  _ but nothing came. When he cracked an eye open, they were just  _ staring at him.  _

“...Care to explain?” Adam asked, cold and unamused and-  _ oh god this was the worst.  _

__

“I’m- I’m not human, okay!?” A hand buried itself in his damp hair and tugged hard, the lock standing straight out from his head when he let go. “I don’t have a- a frame of reference for how people interact, how you talk, what jokes are  _ good  _ or not. Time functions real weird in hell, an’ I was a real  _ bastard _ of a kid, so to keep me occupied Ma dragged somethin’ human-made into our place one day. Said it was a tv, an’ to stop beggin’ her for attention like a shitty dog, an' went back to her booze. Most of what it showed was cartoons airin’ about three thousand years early n’ comedy specials.”

__

He spared a glance up… only to see the both of them watching him with sheer disbelief. “It’s… it’s where I got ideas for most of my shit. I know most humans can’t do the gags in those shows physically, but I figured they had to be based in  _ some  _ kinda reality, judgin’ from the life lessons n’ shit the shows were throwin’ around. So since I ain’t human, I figured I could do the gags myself, n’...” He paused, taking in their faces. They looked repulsed… confused… disgusted. His chances of winning them back over were totally gone. He sagged, hand tugging his hair in bursts. 

__

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled. 

__

Silence filled the room. Beetlejuice quietly patted himself down with the soaked towels on his shoulders, trying to get as much moisture off himself as possible before he left for the Netherworld. He dropped the towels onto a fairly dry one on the floor. He stared at his shoes, listening to them squish with every slight movement he made. 

__

Leave it to him to fuck up so consistently. 

__

“I’ll just g-“ he started, right as Adam started to talk. He looked up, surprised to see confusion on Adam’s face, not hatred. “Y-you go, A-dog,” he said weakly, and Adam nodded. 

__

“So you’re telling me you act like you do because of  _ television?”  _ He asked. The disdain in his voice was horrible. Beetlejuice backed further into the corner. 

__

“Yes,” his voice squeaked. “I ain’t- I didn’t get role models ‘r rule books for interactin’ with humans. I…I had t’figure it out as I went. By m’self. ‘M sorry, I...”

__

“Well,” Adam sniffed.  _ “Cartoons do not always reflect reality.  _ What you did was wrong, Beetlejuice, regardless of where you learned it or why.”

__

Beetlejuice’s eyes widened as his words registered. “So, wait, so you’re tellin’ me that, that  _ no one  _ does that? That- that kissing gags, pinches, that kind of thing- completely unacceptable? I, like- I know what consent is, but I figured there was a comedy clause or some shit, is there- is that not, not a thing?"

__

Barbara tapped her fingers on her arm, patience obviously wearing thin. “It's not. The only people who do those things are  _ disgusting, lowlife scumbags.  _ The kind of people who get their faces busted at bars for hitting on everything with a pulse, and who wind up alone their whole lives.”

__

_ Alone.  _

__

“Oh, god,” he said as it sank in. “Jesus, I’ve- I've been a bigger ass than I  _ thought.”  _ A cold laugh left his chest against his will. “An’ that’s, that’s an achievement.” He dug his claws into his forearm through his soggy coat, the pricks of pain a grim reminder of what he deserved. “I’m- I’m so sorry, guys, I’m sorry, I-“

__

He’d been that person without even knowing it. He’d- he’d  _ harassed _ so many people because he didn’t understand the rules of the game. He was every bit the monster they thought he was, wasn’t he? A fucking  _ reprobate.  _

__

Tears filled his eyes and spilled over. He stared blankly at the floor. What a pathetic excuse for a demon he was already, caring about if he hurt breathers, and now here he was  _ crying  _ because he’d found out he’d hurt  _ more than he realized.  _ Ma would’ve had a fucking field day with this one. Useless. Can’t be a proper demon, and he’s  _ already _ ruined his chances at being a decent human.

__

Something touched his elbow and he recoiled, pushing himself fully into the corner and crouching there. Adam’s hand was outstretched and he looked… worried? Why would he be-

__

“Beetlejuice,” he said softly, “you’re bleeding.”

__

Beetlejuice looked down. He'd been digging his claws in without realizing and they had pierced his sleeve and his skin. A dark stain was slowly spreading across the fabric. He lifted his hand, the black liquid dripping down his fingers dramatic even through blurry eyes. He pulled a third arm from his back with a handkerchief. Wiped his claws. Wrapped the hankie around his arm. Now he’d have to  _ mend  _ his  _ suit, _ stupid fucking bastard that he was, breaking the only thing he really  _ owns- _

__

“Beetlejuice.”

__

His head snapped up, extra arm snaking back out of existence. Barbara was standing over him. He couldn’t really cower more than he already was, but he gave it an effort anyway. 

__

She sighed… looking for all the world like she was disciplining a child who drew on the wall. 

__

_ ‘She would’ve made a good mom,’  _ he found himself thinking. 

__

“You’ve done a lot of things to hurt us, Beetlejuice. You were a creep, a pervert, a  _ complete _ jerk. But beating yourself up like this…” she winced. “It’s a little too far. Now, if you’re willing-”

The door slammed open. All three of them whipped around to find Lydia, just as soaked as Beetlejuice, standing in the doorway. Her chest was heaving, like she’d run up the stairs, and as she drank in the scene anger blossomed on her face. 

“Lydia, you’re  _ soaked-“ _

“Sweetheart, are you-“

She stomped over and forced her way between the Maitlands and Beetlejuice, arms outstretched. All he could do was stare up at her back. Her thin, trembling back. 

“I don’t get why you guys want to bully him so badly!!” She shouted. “He’s  _ sorry,  _ and all he wants to do is make up what he did to us, and you guys won’t listen!”

Beetlejuice’s undead heart squeezed. “Lyds, it’s not-”

She turned to him, dropping to her knees fluidly. Her hands grabbed his arm, still bleeding sluggishly under the handkerchief wrap, and he winced. “Did they hurt you, BJ? Is that why you’re crying?”

She sounded so  _ earnest-  _ so  _ concerned  _ for him. He hiccuped. More tears spilled as he tried to keep his composure. He didn’t deserve that. 

“No, kid. I- I did that.”  _ I’m the monster here. I’m the one who hurts people. Not them, never them.  _

She paused, taking him in. “Then why are you in the corner? With your hair… black?”

He let out a cold, empty laugh. “Because I’m a fuckin’ screwup, kiddo,” he told her. “I fucked sh-shit up even more than I thought. They- they ain’t  _ bullyin’  _ me, I was just apo-apologizing. N’ they heard me out, n’ now they’re tellin’ me what they think about my d-dumb ass.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked back to the Maitlands. Beetlejuice’s gaze followed. Adam looked like he wanted to kneel with them and be a sweet, kind dork who could do the hard talking later, but Barbara looked… frustrated, at the very least. 

Beetlejuice patted Lydia’s small hand. It felt clammier than it should. “Let- let them say what they gotta say, kid. It’s fine. I’m fuckin’ ancient, I can- can handle it.” Probably. “Go d-dry off, you’re mortal.”

She reluctantly nodded, standing and stepping away. He saw her blurred shape bend and pick up a dry towel near the door. He rubbed his eyes, clearing them of tears for a moment. 

Barbara cleared her throat and his attention snapped back to her. “As I was saying,” she began, focused down on him, “you’ve done a  _ hell  _ of a lot of bad things, Mr. Juice.”

He braced himself for the inevitable order to leave and never return. 

_ “But _ … it’s obvious you regret all of that. Especially the things you didn’t realise were wrong. That’s a sign that you  _ can  _ change for the better.”

Lydia pulled the towel off her head in his periphery. 

“If you… if you’re willing to behave yourself while you’re here, learn what’s wrong, follow the rules- and there  _ will  _ be rules, mister… I don’t see why you don’t deserve a second chance.”

Lydia rushed the ghosts, pulling them both into a big hug. Adam patted her back, and Barbara smiled wearily as she returned the embrace. Beetlejuice was having trouble processing it. 

“But…” his voice croaked as he spoke up. “But why? I- the shit I did, you- why be nice to me? What have I done to  _ deserve  _ y-you bein’ nice to me?”

“Beetlejuice,” Adam spoke up, “it's the decent decision. If we were to throw you back outside, or into the Netherworld, that'd just be cold of us. We want to give you a chance to make amends.” He ruffled Lydia’s hair, smiling when it poofed up. “Plus, a  _ certain someone  _ would be pretty upset if we didn’t give you that chance.” She grinned up at him. 

Beetlejuice reeled. He didn’t expect this. _ In all his wildest daydreams,  _ he didn’t expect this. More heat gathered in his eyes and spilled down his face. He half-expected to find out he was literally crying fire, but it was just boring salt water when it reached his lips. 

“I-” he floundered for words. “Thank you. I’m sorry. Thank you, I’m sorry, th- _ thank you,  _ God, I’m  _ so sorry, _ I-”

Lydia tackled him. His head banged into the wall, the force of a hundred-odd pounds of wet teenager enough to knock him over even if he was standing. Her hands went to his head, and when she confirmed he wasn’t bleeding she grinned at him. Her thin arms wrapped around him, the light heat contrasting their chilled, soaked clothes. 

“Lyds-”

She buried her face in the side of his shoulder, a smile in her voice. “Welcome back, Beej.”

He sat there for a moment longer, feeling her warmth seep into his cold, dead body. He looked up at the Maitlands, making out smiles on both of them through his tears. This wasn’t a trap. Not a trick. They- they were letting him in  _ for real.  _

He flicked his hands, retracting his claws, and crushed Lydia against him. He nestled his chin over her tiny shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut as he finally let his emotions loose. He sobbed and whined, making all kinds of embarrassing noises as he cried in his best friend’s arms. 

~

When he’d cried himself out, waterfall of tears drying to a trickle, Lydia loosened her grip. He followed suit, letting her sit up in his lap. Wait, when had he sat down? When had she climbed into his lap like a kid visiting the world's grossest mall Santa?

She ruffled his damp hair, hands playing with it, and he felt the remaining tension leave his body immediately. His eyes slipped closed again. 

“Looks like you’re feeling better. Are you, Beej?” 

He nodded, careful to keep her hands in his hair. She hummed to herself, then stood, hands leaving his hair anyway. He opened his eyes reluctantly, untying his bloody handkerchief from his arm and wiping at his face with it. 

When he looked up again, Lydia, Adam, and Barbara were a tight circle, talking quickly with each other. Adam looked up and gave him a brief smile, and god, he still wasn’t sure this was real. 

“Well!” Barbara clapped her hands. “We’re all wet now. What do you say we head downstairs and dry off in front of the fireplace?” She looked at Beetlejuice, pausing. “...if you’d like, Mr. Juice, you can borrow some dry clothes and we’ll hang your suit up next to the fire as well?”

He stared at her. Tears threatened to return but he blinked them away. “Y-yeah,” he managed, voice even rougher than usual. “That’d- be great. Thanks, Babs.”

She smiled, and Jesus Christ he was gonna die again just from adoration wasn’t he. “I’ll go grab something from Charles’ closet, then! Adam, hon, get the fire going?” 

Barbara bustled out. Adam left, taking Lydia with him. Beetlejuice shucked his suit jacket off, staring at the damage he’d done to his sleeve as he waited for Barbara to return. Surreal. All of this was surreal. He didn’t deserve any of it. 

Barbara nudged the door open, a nervous smile on her face and clothes in her arms. “Here, these should fit you okay! Just- bring your wet clothes down with you after you change, and I’ll get them set up to dry, since I doubt you’re meant to toss that suit in the dryer.” She paused, fishing a roll of something out of the pile and setting it on top. “Oh, and here’s some bandages for your arm, since… well, I don’t know how quickly demons heal.”

Beetlejuice set his jacket down on the floor, gingerly taking the pile of clean clothes. They felt… soft. Dry. They smelled like laundry juice. He looked back at her, too tired to pretend he wasn’t touched by this. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. “You won’t… I  _ hope  _ you won’t regret this.”

Her smile turned a bit wistful. “So do I.”

And with that, she left him to change. Beetlejuice slowly dried himself off, peeling layers of fabric away from his body that he hadn’t removed in decades, and toweled himself down thoroughly. Towel after towel came away filthy. Usually, he’d just let his injuries clot and forget about them, but he did  _ not  _ want to stain Chuck’s clothes before he got to say his piece with him. So he carefully dried and bandaged his arm, winding the cloth strip around and around until blood stopped dyeing the top layer. 

The new clothes were as soft as they looked. A white t-shirt, black sweatpants, a grey hoodie; even a pair of fuzzy, well-worn house slippers shaped like dogs. (He had spare boxers in the pocket dimension, thank fuck. No way in hell was he gonna wear Chuck’s, and no way he was gonna let the others deal with his. It turned out raiding department stores  _ was _ helpful, after all!) He slowly moved around, gathering the dirty towels into a pile. Stacked his wet clothes on top. After a moment to breathe, he started down the stairs towards the others.

They were sitting on the brick in front of the fireplace. He worried for a moment, but a closer look revealed glass separating the crackling fire from their backs. _'That's new,'_ he noted. Probably for the kid's safety. Said kid was in new clothes- spiderweb-patterned pajamas- and tucked between the Maitlands, looking sheepish as she expounded on some adventure she’d had. They looked- warm, happy, relieved. Like a family. 

Like the kind of family he’d always wanted, somewhere under the layers of denial. 

She looked up at him and smiled, the Maitlands following suit just a bit more nervously. He took a minute to drink it in, this almost-idyllic picture of the people he cared about most, before moving forward to join them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rep·ro·bate  
> noun  
> 1\. an unprincipled person (often used humorously or affectionately).  
> 2\. ARCHAIC (in Calvinism) a sinner who is not of the elect and is predestined to damnation.
> 
> Found that word looking at synonyms for insults, and I think it fits our bugman pretty well, don't you? It'll likely come up again in the future- it's just the sort of thing Juno would call him :3
> 
> I'm pegging Beetlejuice at about 4,000 years old, since he's got a line about "scaring for millennia" which implies at _least_ 2,000 years of active scaring. I might tweak his age up or down- most likely up- before it comes up in the fic itself, and not just my notes, but I figured I'd get that out there!
> 
> WHEW, that was a ride to write, though! I'd love to know what you thought about this chapter; if I captured the wary-golden-retriever energy of the Maitlands well enough, if you think Beetlejuice should suffer more less or forever, so on and so forth! I'm working on chapter 4 right now, and it's looking to be a quieter one. Thank you for reading :>


	4. Warm Hearts and Warmer Fires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's bedtime for the Maitland-Deetz household and their guest!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First up, I am SO SORRY for how late this is! Apparently, my already bad grip on time is _so much worse_ during the stay-at-home order. Thank you for being so patient with me, and for all of your kind comments!
> 
> Second up, this didn't wind up being the...entirely-soft-light-n-fluffy chapter I'd wanted it to be. There's some gore and body horror in the later section, though I tried not to go overboard with the descriptions. If that ain't your thing, you can stop reading at the bit about the bloodstain and pick up again at "He opened his eyes." 
> 
> As always, my personal hair guide is on [my blog,](https://nerdofnerds.tumblr.com/post/611646824275689472/i-made-a-beetlejuice-hair-color-chart-for-the-fic%5D) though it remains fairly useless as this is another Beej POV chapter, lol. I hope you enjoy!

He spent most of that evening sitting at the fireplace, listening to the Maitlands and Lydia talk. Or rather, ‘listening’- he dozed off when Adam started telling his third fish story. The guy had a real soothing voice, and that combined with the warmth was a hell of a sedative. 

They only woke him up when he started to mumble in his sleep. Lydia asked him about Alnitak and Alnilam, but he himself couldn’t quite remember who they were; the dream too fleeting, the memories buried too deep to be clear.

As he woke, his stomach rumbled distantly. He fumbled for his pockets before he really registered he wasn’t wearing his jacket. Right. Costume change. Barbara had arranged his clothes hanging from the top of the fireplace, so that the warm brick would help them dry quicker. He stretched an extra arm out to rummage through the pockets, making a sleepy, triumphant noise when he grabbed a misshapen apple. 

He munched on the apple and squinted blearily at the people before him. Lydia had, at some point, shifted to sit next to him. Barbara and Adam had gotten up, presumably after they’d dried off, and were on the couch facing them. The pair were cuddled together, the casual affection making some part of him  _ hungry _ in the weirdest way. Not horny, something… more chestward? His  _ sexual  _ attraction to them made sense, sure- but man, they made him feel some  _ weird _ shit that no one else had. They seemed tired, quietly murmuring to each other. He belatedly realised Lydia was asking him something, so he blinked and focused back in on her.

“-come from?”

“...Sorry, didn’t catch that, kiddo. Run that by me again?”

“I  _ said _ , where do your extra limbs come from?” She huffed at him. “They’re always striped, even if you’re not in your suit.”

“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about,” He deadpanned. He crossed his legs, pulling forth a third and fourth leg to cross as well. She glared at him. He bit his apple’s core in half and grinned at her, dropping the act. “So, okay. You  _ really  _ wanna know?”

She nodded eagerly, eyes gleaming.

“Well, if you’re  _ sure…”  _ He trailed off and she smacked his arm, earning a cackle. “Okay, okay. So, my secret is…” 

He leaned in conspiratorially. Lydia leaned in with him, excited. He waited a beat to let the tension build, then… “...I have no fucking clue!”

She flopped back, making an exasperated noise. “But they’re  _ your limbs!  _ How can you not  _ know?” _

Beetlejuice shrugged, taking one of his extra legs and flopping it about absentmindedly. It moved limply, boneless, like a Muppet’s flailing body. “I’unno. They’re more like props or visual gags than proper limbs, so I don’t use ‘em the same way I do my main limbs. Like, sure, I _ feel _ through ‘em, but they ain’t good for much. I, uh, I  _ think  _ they’re tied to the pocket dimension somehow, since that just came with the whole B-man package too, but I dunno for sure.” 

“Pocket dimension?” Adam piped up.

“Oh, yeah, ya’ missed the exposition.” He wiggled the leg in Adam’s direction, gesturing with it as he spoke. “Uh, basically, my jacket’s pockets lead t’my personal pocket dimension, it’s cool as fuck, I stash shit there n’ that’s how I have so much random shit on hand at all times. Real convenient. I ain’t know a lot ‘bout my powers, so I figure _ that _ shit’s prob’ly linked to _ this _ shit.” A final point with the foot and h e paused, considering his multitude of legs. “On the bright side, they’re real easy to summon. I just gotta think about it, an’ another one will show up, see?” 

A moment’s focus, and a third striped leg sprouted from his hip, sticking straight out from his side. It wiggled in place, and then zwooped back into him and disappeared. He did lazy jazz hands.

“That’s… a neat trick,” Adam slowly said. “What’s the limit? Like- how many limbs can you  _ have?” _

Beetlejuice shrugged. “As many as I want. ‘M not positive, but I think my body pulls some non-Euclidean shit to make ‘em all fit. Most I remember doin’ at once was, uh… twelve legs, 6 arms?”

Lydia whistled low. “And they don’t affect your clothes at all?”

Beetlejuice nodded, leaning to the side against the brick. He unfolded and tucked his extra legs back into himself. He was more awake, but still felt soft and fuzzy around the edges, like he could fall back asleep if he wanted to. It was nice. Usually he didn’t get a chance to let his guard down at all, let alone like this. 

“Do other demons… do that?” Barbara asked, wary. 

Oh. There that went. 

Beetlejuice shrugged, uneasy. “Ma always used’ta say it was because a’ my dad,” he drawled. “She ain’t talk about him much, so what I’ve got is just  _ ‘the entity had powers no demon could obtain’ _ an’ _ ‘the songs he sang were in no known language and drove humans to madness, it was incredibly sexy,’  _ an’  _ ‘thought it’d come in handy to have a freak of nature around the house, but you’re just a  _ **useless bastard** **_,_ ** _ huh, Lawrence?’” _

The Maitlands frowned at him and… Whoops. Got a little serious there. He cracked a brittle grin in an attempt to cover his tracks and reached out to ruffle Lydia’s hair. “I don’t really  _ know  _ other demons, so. Basically, I have no idea,” he concluded.

Lydia batted his hand away. “Didn’t you say when you left you were gonna try to find your dad?”

Ah. That’s right. Beetlejuice chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “Well, uh, I  _ tried?  _ He ain’t in the Netherworld. Not Hell, not Heaven, not Purgatory,  _ nowhere  _ in the Afterwards an’ the Hereafter an’ the Continuation. The Office of Reincarnation didn’t have anyone with his last name on file, either. I kinda had’ta throw in the towel when I got to the Assyro-Babylonian Sector an’ no one could understand my accent.” He paused and huffed. _ “Sure,  _ I’m a couple thousand years outta practice, but I can’t be fuckin’ up <looking for name Shoggoth> _ that _ badly!”

Lydia blinked, her big, dark eyes focused intently on him. God, she looked so young in her fuzzy pajamas. She may act tough, but she’s really… just a kid. He winced internally. He was gonna hafta go above and beyond for her n’ her folks to make up for what he did, huh?

“There’s more to the Netherworld?” She was asking. “When I went, it was just… empty. A void.”

Beetlejuice focused on the conversation again. “Yeah, that’s, uh, Customs and Processing,” he explained. “Everythin’s empty and infinitely loops so no one wanders off ‘fore they get the paperwork done. Outside’a there, basically every kind of afterlife that breathers expect to find exists, an’ then some. We hadta do a lotta restructuring back when JC kicked the bucket.”

Lydia took a moment to digest that. The Maitlands leaned closer together, like they were trying to meld into one being for comfort. His chest ached again. To distract himself he pulled his jacket down and rummaged through until he could find another snack. A twin banana produced itself, and he shoved it into his mouth without peeling either half. It crunched grotesquely. 

“Soooooo… yeah.” He mumbled around the mouthful. “No idea about pops. I was born dead, nev’r alive to begin with, so he hasta’ be dead or outside the laws of life n’ death altogeth’r, but…” he shrugged as he swallowed. “Nothin’.”

The group fell quiet. He was less at ease now, the silence unpleasant, so to distract himself he checked his jacket over. It was still slightly damp, but most of the moisture had evaporated. He reached into the inner chest pocket and willed a particular set of items to him… There!

He pulled out a needle and a spool of thick, black thread. He turned the sleeves until he found the thin puncture marks of his claws and set about quietly mending the tears. These weren’t as bad as he’d thought they would be- sure, the blood would be a bitch to remove, but he’d dealt with  _ much  _ worse bloodstains over the years. 

He got in the zone working on his jacket, when- when  _ something _ touched his shoulder. He flinched hard, undead heart kickstarting, squished himself against the fireplace to get away from the threat of- 

...Lydia. It was just Lydia. She’d tried to lean on him. 

He shot her an apologetic grin and sat back up, feeling her gingerly settle against his shoulder to watch him work. She was warm, warmer now that they were dry, and her body thrummed with life. If he focused, he could sense her heart rate just from that one touch point. 

...It felt nice. This casual contact with the kid. 

He went back to sewing. It didn’t take long to finish repairing those claw tears. While he was at it, might as well take care of those loose threads at his cuff. And the rip at his shoulder. And that part of the breast where the lining was pulling away. 

“...Do you do all your mending yourself?” Barbara asked softly. 

Beetlejuice nodded. His voice matched her volume, low and soft. “Gotta. No one else’s willin’ ta help.  _ One _ dead tailor reaches into a pocket and gets a knife through the hand, when I  _ told him not to fuck with the pockets,  _ and suddenly  _ none  _ will work with me!”

Barbara snorted. Beetlejuice glanced up and found the Maitlands watching him, sleepy and amused. But… he could see the caution in how they held themselves. A tension under the surface. It made his chest clench, but he understood. He was a monster. He’d hurt them. Of course they wouldn’t trust him. No one in their  _ right mind _ would. 

He glanced back down to Lydia, a joke on his lips, and found she’d closed her eyes and dozed off. Instantly, confusion flooded him. He didn’t get it- if the Maitlands couldn’t trust him, how could  _ she?  _ She was so clever; how could she let her guard down? He’d done so much to her! He’d tried to  _ murder  _ her, her whole family- and here she was, sawin’ some z’s on his shoulder. Her hand loosely holding the arm of his borrowed hoodie. 

Looking more like a kid than she ever had. 

...He didn’t understand her. But something inside him  _ ached  _ (in a… pleasant way???) over this simple gesture. Some pitiful part of him  _ wanted  _ this kind of contact, trust, wordless communication. He reached into his jacket’s pocket and tugged an old fleece blanket free of the void, careful not to stir Lydia. It was covered with thick purple stripes, alternating dark and light. He knew it to be fuzzy and extra-soft from years of use. 

He summoned two extra arms on his stomach and back. Carefully, so as not to wake her, they tugged the blanket over her and retracted once she was covered. She shifted closer to him, and the ache grew, a weird, warm feeling spreading in his chest alongside it. It made him feel almost… proud? Honored? Like he’d kill for her?

...Weird. 

He looked back to the Maitlands. They’d softened a bit. He thought about how this would look to anyone back home- the grand demon Beetlejuice, cuddling with a breather kid!- but he’d changed. He didn’t want to be some all-powerful demon right now. He just wanted to  _ be.  _

...But there were still things to be done before he could truly try to win the adults of the house over. Like, y’know, actually talking at  _ all  _ to two of them. 

“Hey, uh,” he murmured, “Where’s Chuck and Deborah? I can’t imagine they, uh, slept through that mess upstairs.”

“On a date,” Adam replied. “It  _ feels  _ like tonight has lasted ages, but it’s only 9.” He gestured to the mantle of the fireplace, where an analog clock sat softly ticking. And then he pointed at an antique grandfather clock near the stairwell, the pendulum swinging back and forth in perfect time. 

“Charles has…  _ indulged _ my love for antiquing,” he admitted with a shy smile, and oh Jesus there were those weird feelings again, Christ fuck he was so  _ fucking cute  _ he could just  _ kiss him-  _ “The clock chimes every hour, so we don’t lose the time like we did when we first died,  _ and  _ it’s a gorgeous statement piece for the location!”

Barbara nodded. “We have clocks all over. It helps a lot.” She nuzzled-  _ nuzzled-  _ against Adam’s shoulder as she settled against him again, and god, that was  _ adorable,  _ he wanted her to do that with  _ him-  _ His fingers itched to just  _ reach out,  _ to  _ touch- _

_ ‘No!! No, bad demon, Beetlejuice!’ _ He shook his head hard.  _ ‘You fuckin’ fool. They  _ **just** _ talked to you about that! No touching! No yearning either, considering your lack of self control. Fucking dumbass.’ _

Now his fingers itched for his hair, but with Lydia trapping one arm and the other mid-mend on his jacket he couldn’t resort to his usual self-punishment. His fingers clenched tight instead, blunt, human-ish nails digging into his palms as he ignored the burning in his chest.

After a few tense moments his emotions ebbed again, and he gradually relaxed. A guilty glance up at the Maitlands revealed they were still focused on him, with far more concern etched into their faces than before. 

“...Are you alright?” Adam asked. 

“It has been… quite a day,” Barbara added. 

Beetlejuice sighed and looked back to Lydia. Her other hand felt for his arm in her sleep, and she wrapped herself around it like she was holding a teddy bear. It was  _ way too cute.  _ He didn’t know how to process her being  _ cute _ with  _ him. _

He realised a bit late he hadn’t responded. “Y-Yeah, yeah, it has. N’ I’m- I’m good, I jus’- I don’t want Chuck to get back n’ see me an’ flip his shit, ykno? N’ I dunno where I’m gonna spend the night since it’s still rainin’. The roof’s  _ definitely  _ wet as hell.”

Barbara paused. “...The roof?”

“Yeah. Was thinkin’ I could sleep up there; that way I ain’t technically in your house, so you can be, like… assured I ain’t gettin up to shit.” He frowned, twiddling his needle between his fingers. “But I dun’ wanna… get these threads wet, ‘specially since you went to all this effort dryin’ my dumb ass off. N’ I’m not gonna just  _ leave  _ with’em.” He chuckled awkwardly. 

Slow nods. They murmured to each other, too soft for him to make out over the crackling fire, the rain on the walls… and Lydia’s steady heartbeat, ticking a gentle metronome that seemed to reverberate through his dead body. 

“You… you could…” Barbara looked into her husband’s eyes one last time and sighed. “Okay. We’d hoped to talk to Charles before  _ we  _ made any decisions, but… considering the circumstances, if you’d like to sleep on the couch tonight, we don’t think he’d mind.”

“Much.” Adam added. 

Beetlejuice blinked up at them, dumbfounded. “Wait, what? Are you- you’re, you’re not joshin’ me?”

Adam chuckled. “No, we’re not ‘ _ joshin’ you.’”  _ He untangled himself from Barbara and stood with a stretch, circling to the back of the couch. “You need someplace to spend the night, and we’re not gonna kick you out into the rain.” He pulled a heavy blanket off the couch, unfolding it and flapping it open.

Barbara got up as well, approaching him, and- oh  _ god  _ oh god he could  _ not  _ handle her proximity when they were being  _ weirdly nice to him!  _ She was so cute already, and now them being  _ kind,  _ tolerating him for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp- it was making that weird warmth in his chest grow faster. He watched her stop a few feet away and consider his hair, pausing for a good moment before she spoke. 

“Beetlejuice, don’t worry about it,” she said, gently. He felt a little bit like he might shatter, like candy glass on a movie set. “We’ll explain everything to Charles and Delia. You can just… get some rest, tonight.”

The urge to  _ reach out  _ hit him again, a desperate desire to bury himself in her arms flooding his being, so intense it  _ hurt.  _ But he didn’t know where boundaries lay, with these modern newly-deads, and it’s not like he’d purposefully sabotage his chances with them  _ now.  _ So he focused on the grounding weight of Lydia and hoped that’d be enough to calm his surging emotions.

(It wasn’t enough. It really wasn’t. That was a different kind of contact, a different kind of soothing. But he’d make it work.)

He realised belatedly that she was waiting for his response. “Y-yeah, okay. Th-thanks,” he croaked. Why was his voice so rough? Like, it was always rough, but usually just gravel in a blender rough, not  _ rockslide  _ rough. Oh god, now they were both looking at him with something he couldn’t recognize in their eyes. Deflect, B-man, deflect! He did lazy finger guns and forced a grin. “Y-you two are the real stars of this show! Honestly, like, puttin’ you guys on more of the merch defs couldn’t go wrong. Not, uh, everyone rocks stripes like I do.”

Adam and Barb shared a confused look. Good! If they were confused about their existence inside a form of media, they weren’t reading into his emotional state. He took the moment to tuck his thread and needle away, sparking tiny fingertip fires to get rid of the excess threads dangling from his mending. 

When he looked back up, Barbara had a more serious look on her face. “Now, come morning, there  _ will  _ be discussions of rules,” she warned. “You won’t be allowed to just  _ run wild  _ in the house like you did when Lydia summoned you.”

Okay. She was serious again. He could handle this better than them being nice. “‘Course, Babs. I know there’s a difference ‘tween gettin’ summoned here an’ just droppin’ in. N’ I’ll be good ‘til then, Scout’s honor!” He held up 3 fingers and she squinted thoughtfully, before nodding. 

“I’ll trust you for now,” she murmured, but before he could even  _ begin  _ to process that she was continuing. “Would you mind waking Lydia? We have to get her to bed.”

Oh! He could handle this without incurring the wrath of a teenager. And show off at the same time, besides. 

He stretched an extra arm out of his side to hang his jacket back up on the fireplace. With a moment's focus, Lydia was gently floating upwards. He moved with her, slipping his arm out of her grasp when it loosened enough, and turned to the Maitlands. 

“Don’t gotta wake her up,” he grinned, bouncing on the pads of his feet. The dog heads on the borrowed slippers bounced gently with him. “Where’s her room again? I can bring her there.”

Barbara blinked. “Oh, it’s- here, I’ll show you.”

She led him upstairs. He followed obediently, taking care not to jostle Lydia or bump her into anything. Barbara indicated the second door on the landing, and Beetlejuice took a second to mentally mark the first as Maitland-Land. He was never too good at remembering where things were, but hopefully he’d get this straightened out soon. 

...Assuming they let him visit again after tonight. 

He carefully stepped into Lydia’s room, glancing around. It was as dark as he remembered it being, but there were more posters up, more photos she’d taken. Her vanity had pictures of other kids stuck in the edges of the mirror- had she finally been making friends?- And the massive wardrobe had a pair of crystals dangling from the handles. 

Her bed was made, spare pillows piled at the headboard, and with a flick he lifted them into the air. Another flick rolled her blankets down, and he set Lydia down nice and easy. Part of him wanted to get his blanket back, but he had a feeling Lydia wasn’t the type to  _ steal  _ it, so he let it be. He flicked her blankets back up over her sleeping form, tucked her in, and nested the pillows around her. 

She didn’t stir. Her chest kept rising and falling, so she wasn’t  _ dead,  _ but she was just too asleep to notice literally any of this. Must be truly exhausted. 

...Probably for the best. He didn’t need more teasing for being a softie. 

He turned to find Barbara watching him, her face conveying… something, probably. He had no idea what she was thinking. It made him nervous, but she didn’t say anything so maybe it was alright? She quietly led the way back downstairs and he followed, closing Lydia’s door with a soft  _ klik.  _

Proper, like, bed pillows now adorned one side of the couch. Adam had arranged the knit throw blanket from the back of the couch into a taco shape on the cushions, the top section thrown wide so Beetlejuice could just lay down and cocoon himself. He liked the thought of that. Adam hovered next to the coffee table- figuratively, not literally, because the Maitlands are  _ boring-  _ fidgeting with the accent pillow he’d had to move. Barbara dipped into the kitchen, presumably to do… something.

“Uh, thanks, A-dog!” Beetlejuice tried to smile wide, doing his best to alleviate the awkwardness of the situation, but his grin faltered and a yawn overtook it. Damn it, he was  _ tired,  _ and no one had invited him to sleep somewhere comfortable in a hundred and twenty years, and he wanted to hurry up and take advantage of it before they threw him back into the Netherworld!

Adam, for his part, seemed to understand. He gestured vaguely at the kitchen and bathroom, like a hot dad at his kid’s sleepover, rambling which light switch did what and how to get water as he started to back out of the room. Beetlejuice nodded along absently until Adam turned the lights off and paused, staring.

“What’s up, dude?” Beetlejuice’s eyes adjusted to the dark with a blink. He mussed his hair. It was noticeably softer after his unwilling shower, and he had to wonder if it was sticking up the way it should. Was that what he was staring at?

“Your…” Adam swallowed. “Your eyes. Do they… always do that?”

Beetlejuice sighed, looking around for a mirror until he caught his reflection in the glass of the fireplace cover. His pupils were wide and dark, and when he turned his head he saw them glint as they reflected light from the kitchen.

“Oh! Oh, the shiny-eyes thing.” Beetlejuice waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, that’s another built in feature. Night vision, similar model to, uhh… cats? I can change it up, though!” He blinked and the world revealed itself anew in shades of green. Adam’s soul burned brilliantly in the nexus of his vision, so he focused on the stairs behind him. “I dun’ really like usin’ this, though. Makes everythin’ look like $10 night vision goggles ya’ get from an ad in a comic book.”

Adam nodded, clearly off-put. “I. I see. You can- you can do the other, other eye thing, it just…” He laughed nervously. “It caught me off guard!”

Beetlejuice blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to his usual night vision again. “That’s fair. Ain’t like humans get cool shit like this, after all.” He stretched hard, his bones stuttering as joint after joint snapped, crackled, and popped. A glance back at Adam revealed that he was paused partway up the stairs, watching him.

“Welp, I’m gonna get some shut-eye!” Beetlejuice announced. “‘Night, A-dog. See ya tomorrow.”

Adam startled, but nodded. “R-right. Goodnight, Beetlejuice.” And up the stairs he hurried. 

Beetlejuice sighed and flopped down on the couch, chuckling at the satisfying  _ creak _ it let out at his weight. These pillows were softer than he was used to- well, hell,  _ all of it  _ was softer than he was used to! He usually slept on things like floors, cabinets, or desks. Sure, he had a place back in the Netherworld, with a bed and all, but it was the place his  _ Ma _ owned, so it’s not like he wanted to  _ sleep there ever.  _ But- mental tangent aside, this was way nicer than his usual crashing spots.

He pulled the blanket closed over him. It was warm, the yarn’s texture clearly softened by time to a gentle scritch. He adjusted the pillows, wiggled around, fidgeted with the tassels of the blanket.

...Harder than he thought it would be. Sleeping in this house.

The light in the kitchen clicked off, and he craned his head to watch Barbara walk to the stairs. She paused at the base of them, looking over towards him, and… was that a smile? Why was she smiling?   
  
“Beetlejuice?” 

He made a grumbly noise in response, and yes, that was definitely a smile. 

“Rest well.”

She started up the stairs, and he mumbled a quiet “You, too,” into the darkness. And then he was truly alone. Without anything else impeding him, he could hear the Maitlands moving things around upstairs, the ticking of every clock in the house- even Lydia’s breathing, if he focused hard enough. But most of what he heard was gently muted by the rain, the rustle of it against the plants outside melding with the patter on the walls.

He rolled over, curling on his side. The blanket felt too…  _ open.  _ He pulled the top section taut over his entire body, tucking the excess under him. There we go. That was better. Nothing could get in, nothing could get out, he’d feel it if anyone tried to mess with him- sleeping as a Burritojuice ™️ was the best way to feel safe out in the open.

Finally feeling secure, he felt his eyelids grow heavy once more. The rain soothed him, now that he wasn’t  _ in  _ it, and he slowly drifted off to sleep.

* * *

He was falling. His stomach lurched as air whistled past him. It was starting to feel like he’d been falling for years when hydrangea bushes snatched him from the air. Their prickly grasp dug into his skin, promising to never let go. His eyes shot open. 

The Maitland-Deetz house loomed over him oppressively. He could faintly make out colored lights on the other side of the building, hear the faint strains of musical theater from the roof, but he’d been kicked from the scene. 

He lurched to his feet with a groan. He felt down his spine, pushing each wandering vertebrae back into place and pushing a little bit of magic into any fractures to make them heal. He looked back up at his surroundings. 

For a moment he saw double. He saw the world he lived in, the yard and trees and the dangerous slope of the hill; and overlaying it, like a twice-exposed film negative, he saw a set. A musical set. People hustled around behind stage left, beckoning him, shooting him smiles and thumbs-ups. He watched a stagehand quickly worm one of his extra hands out of the hollow back of the chimney, parts of him phasing through the image of the very solid and  _ not _ hollow version. 

His feet mechanically carried him forward, but he jerked to a stop at the threshold of the stage. He couldn’t leave it. The set kept him hidden from the audience, but he heard the song winding down and knew he had to hurry. Still, his feet remained glued. 

A hand patted his shoulder. “You okay, Alex? Take that fall a little hard?” 

And like that, he came unstuck. Or, well, his actor did. 

Beetlejuice watched his actor step forward, out of his body, into the safe darkness of backstage. He smiled at his coworker, said something silly. Beetlejuice stared in awe as the illusion melted, as the set disappeared like a sunspot fading. Colors bled and swam, images intense and ethereal, and then he blinked and there was but one image. The yard. Grass dark with winter, tree mostly-barren, clouds rolling across the moon in an almost threatening way. 

He knew, of course. He could feel when his actors got  _ really into  _ a performance. Sometimes, when they vibed real hard in rehearsal or at home, he’d get a glimpse of their life off-stage- a small white dog, a smiling cast, two Lydias dancing with him. He wondered sometimes if it went both ways- if they could ever feel what he felt, if they saw the hill or the graveyard or the Netherworld the way he did. Not like he could ask, though. 

Welp! Putting all that aside, he’d been rejected. Time to sulk. He walked through the wall and down, heading for the basement. There was a blood stain on the concrete from when the Maitlands fell that had resisted all attempts at removal. Sitting next to it made him feel less alone. 

He walked over and plopped down, but when he turned to look, it wasn’t their bloodstain at all! He squinted. Theirs was all big and squiggly, and this one was just a pool. A pool that he realised was… still spreading. 

From him. 

His breath caught on the metal rod impaling him. His panicked thoughts scrambled to organise-  _ ‘Okay, in, out, in, out,  _ **breathe,** _ BJ!’  _ It creaked like a swing set with each wheeze he forced through his punctured lungs. He tried to look for answers hiding in the dark of the basement, but when his brain caught up to the spinning of the room he remembered he’d always been at the wedding, surrounded by his “family.” Delia was hiding from him behind a fake plant. Adam was wiping at his mouth, looking disgusted, while Barbara sneered and crumpled the bouquet she held. Charles clutched his trick mic, ready to pounce. The spotlight seared his eyes and burned his skin, made his head reel and his gut clench, and Lydia-

Lydia was behind him. Laughing. 

“Just look at yourself, BJ!” She exclaimed, shoving her improvised weapon deeper through him. He swallowed a cry. “Not so tough without your powers, are you? Did you really think we’d let you walk out of here  _ alive?” _

No. No, this can’t be it. He’d barely had a shot, please, let him prove-

“God, right? He must be dumber than he looks,” Barbara chimed in. 

“He tastes like sour wine mixed with decay and  _ self-pity.”  _ Adam complained. 

Beetlejuice could feel himself going numb. The puddle was growing, pulsing out of him in time with his newly-started heart, endless blood covering the floor entirely. Maybe he’d bleed until they all drowned. Maybe they’d like that. He tried to get up, but Lydia grabbed his hair and shoved him back down to his knees. 

“You’re not goin’ _anywhere,_ demon.” Lydia drove the rod through him like a stake, pinning him to the floor. The heavy art split his ribs apart as it bore down on him. He screamed, harsh and raw, at the sheer _violence_ of the act.

“We know all about your… history, Mr. Juice,” Charles chimed in. “We see you for what you are. You can never undo the crimes you’ve committed.”

“So we’re just gonna help you make up for them!” Barbara exclaimed, cheerful voice dripping with barely-contained distaste. “And the only reparation a demon can pay is  _ death. _ ”

“No-” he hacked, the blood swirling in his lungs getting jettisoned from his mouth. “No!! Please, don’t- don’t do this, I’m  _ sorry, I’M SORRY!  _ I’ll never do any of it again!! I promise!! Please don’t off me I’m-”

The room twisted and shuddered as Barbara flicked a piece of the fireplace’s blaze onto him. He screamed again as he began to burn, the inferno taking to his ancient body like kindling. He couldn’t tell if he was choking on the smoke or if the creeping shadows of the room were trying to pull his weak heart straight out of his mouth. He clawed at his chest, trying to remove the art stand, but it wouldn’t budge. 

_ “It’s what monsters like us deserve, isn't it?” _

He looked up and saw himself, burning at the stake. If he craned, he could see- oh. Oh, god, Beatrice was tied to the stake behind him. Her trembling fingers clung to his sleeve where their hands were bound together, her simple brewer’s smock burning away. The smell of charred flesh filled his nose. 

“I never should have invited you in. You’ve brought nothing but pain to our village.” She whimpered, legs melting away in the hellfire. “Why did you let me think you cared? Why did you pretend to be my friend?”

“I _was_ your friend!” He shouted, the roar of the fire nearly drowning him out. “I didn’t know, kiddo- I didn’t _know_ they’d _do this._ I’m- ‘M _so_ _sorry_.”

She wailed as her organs cooked. His words became ash in his mouth as she died a gruesome death beside him. He howled as his friend ran off to the afterlife without him.

And then he was alone. The fire ate into him, marring him, licking the rod in his lung until it was super-heated. The wound seared him deep, burning him inside and out, and he felt himself start to slip away.  _ ‘Maybe Ma won’t be so mad this time,’ _ he reasoned hysterically.  _ ‘I caused lots of mischief. Maybe-‘ _

Water was dumped on him, bucketful after bucketful. He sighed, the sweet relief from the burning a welcome respite, but- but then a  _ new burning began.  _

_ Holy water. _

“You always were too  _ stupid  _ for your own good,” a horribly familiar voice croaked. He cast about, found himself in Hell with Ma, the only proof of his time with the Maitlands being the art still impaling him. She threw more holy water on him, watched him scream and writhe desperately. A cold laugh reached his ears as his limbs fell apart, as his body was eaten away. 

“Lawrence, you know why I’m doing this. You need to learn your lesson.  _ You can’t trust anyone.  _ Maybe dying will make that sink in a little better, huh? Maybe  _ then-”  _ she upended the bucket over his head, smiled as his ears and hair were consumed, as his bones started to melt. “Maybe then you’ll be a  _ better son.” _

He clawed at his body, trying desperately to put it back together, but there was nothing  _ to  _ put together. His hands dripped from his arms, his chest heaving as it unraveled around the rod. He  _ wailed  _ as he died, as the nothingness embraced and smothered him. 

Ma was right. He did deserve this. 

He floated for a while, the dark emptiness of his  _ special hell _ almost soothing, in a way. At least it didn’t hurt. But then something…  _ touched  _ him. What could touch him? He was alone in here with no body, that was the  _ point-! _

“Beej? You okay?”

He pushed  _ whatever it was  _ away, scrambling backwards through the abyss. Strange, the abyss had way more texture now. And structure. His lungs stuttered into action. Weird, it almost felt like… like… 

“Beetlejuice!”

He opened his eyes. 

He was crouching on the wall of the Maitland-Deetz household’s living room, body wedged in a corner. Lydia stood a careful distance away from him, hands on her hips. The fire in the fireplace had burned low, and there was nothing but darkness outside the windows. 

He slowly blinked around. The entire room was in disarray. Pillows and cushions had been thrown from the couch- some torn open, some scorched. The throw blanket was still clinging to his leg, the fringe on one side gently smoldering. The couch looked like a flaming bobcat had tried and  _ failed _ to escape its nefarious clutches for hours. The upholstery was  _ shredded,  _ and what remained was still burning. 

The most dramatic of all, though, was the black and white sunburst painting 3/4ths of the room. The coffee table, the couch, the rug, the carpet-

The rug. The rug where he… 

“You awake now, BJ? That looked like… one hell of a nightmare.”

He remembered the agony of death clearly. Too clearly. And now confronted with the wreckage of his panic, his rotten heart stuttered as it sank in- They were  _ definitely _ going to kill him again for _ this. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for that ending ^^; I'm gonna TRY to get the next chapter up fairly quick so you're not left on a cliffhanger for long! As for points of interest:
> 
> -I like to think that Beetlejuice is self-aware about being in a musical because he has the ability to sort of "possess" his actor. He's one hell of a cursed role! And yes, Beetlejuice likes Kevin, who _wouldn't_ like Kevin. 
> 
> -I made up a vague timeline for some historical events I want Beej to have experienced! And in the process, wound up with a bunch of stuff written that isn't in this chapter. Beatrice is a big part of that- one of his first friends post-cursing! 
> 
> But now I'm left with a dilemma; should I let that stuff come up naturally in the future? Write one-off chapters? Write side fics in the series? Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Just like always, your comments and kudos mean the world to me, and any feedback at all is fantastic to see! Thank you for reading and I hope you have a lovely day ^^

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments mean the world to me! I'd appreciate any feedback you might have about the fic so far, predictions about where it's going, so on and so forth! It's been a hot minute since I posted anything here, though, so please be merciful ^^;
> 
> I'm gonna bring up more fun facts about Betelgeuse the star in a future chapter, since Beetlejuice the person absolutely reflects those fun facts :>


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